I Wish We Were Butterflies
by alicelightwoodbane
Summary: Year 1810. Alec is a young heir to the Lightwood family fortune. He leads very stable, very predictable life - until he meets Magnus Bane, and the world he's known so far shatters. In a society where love between two men is a taboo, what will happen to butterflies? Malec AU/AH. Rating will likely go up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, new story. Can we call it Jane Austen-verse? I guess I just wanted to write something like that. I'll be multi-chaptered, slow build, love story. Let's see how it goes, 'kay? **

* * *

_"I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain." _

_- John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne_

* * *

The orange sun was hanging low on the horizon. A flock of partridges rose from the ground, when a horseman approached them in a cloud of noise and dust. He was beautiful and young – not a man, yet not a boy either. He didn't have a hat (a thing unimaginable in society), so his hair flew behind his ears, the black bangs a little bit too long for a nobleman. His blue eyes bright and striking, his cheeks rosy from the chilly evening wind. He was smiling, too. Occasional laugher bubbled up his chest: at that moment he was happy, he was _free_. A big, gray dog was chasing the horseman and his steed, and sometimes he would stop to catch its breath or bark.

Finally, the young man stopped and dismounted from his horse. He was almost at the border of his county, he didn't need to go any further. He wanted to, many many times before, but it was not his job. His job was to look after his father's lands, the lands that someday would be his. He didn't have time to _want._

"Church!" he called out. The big dog appeared immediately, wagging his tail at his master. The man crouched down and buried his hands in gray coat. "Good boy," he murmured. "The cottages look good, don't you think? Peaceful. Everything seems to be in a good shape. We can go back."

Church barked in agreement. The man started walking down the hill. He took his horse by the bridle and let him rest before the journey home. It was late summer. He could walk for a while, he didn't have to worry about early nightfall. The air was warm and heavy around him. Sometimes he would feel like he was suffocating, but a few deep breaths always helped him to remember who he was, and that he was, after all, _content _with his life.

* * *

His name was Alexander Lightwood. He was the heir to the Lightwood family fortune, therefore it was expected of him to be responsible and guarded and wise. Only in time like this, did he let himself to be _Alec_. To wear an open face and sincere smile, and disheveled hair and no tie around his neck. When nobody was there to watch him (except Church), judge him or report on him to his father, Robert Lightwood. Lord Lightwood was usually absent, always on business trips, dealing with far more important problems than his family. Yet, he always knew what was happening at home – Alec thought his father was either God or just had very good spies. Then again, apparently there was only one true God; and spying on his own family sounded extremely repulsive.

To his mother, he was _Alexander. _He rather liked being _Alec _to his siblings: his younger sister Isabelle, and his adoptive brother Jace (with whom he was connected not by blood, but by something no less stronger). Very often though, it was not allowed. When Isabelle spoke her mind, he was supposed to say _appropriate _things, not to agree with her. Fortunately (or not) his little sister knew when he was lying. She would give him that very special look, as if she was despising him, when really she was just mocking him. She would then giggle, her laugh clear as silver bells, and dismiss the whole incident with one wave of her white hand. Alec never knew if he should be grateful of angry. He loved her very much.

When he finally approached the house, it was getting dark. The shadows were long, the one of the highest (and single) tower touched the tips of Alec's shoes. The manor was reddish-brown, in some spots covered with moss. The brick was cold – in summer, much like right now, Alec always had this odd feeling: like he was stepping from the warm sea of moors to a completely different world, the world separated by invisible bubble, cool and uninviting. But when you were finally there, you did not feel discomfort. The change was noticeable only at the beginning. Once you were inside, you didn't know it was possible to feel something different, something _more._

The Institute was old, yet beautiful. Nobody really knew who came up with this odd name and why. It was so long ago that nobody remembered, it just stuck, and it suited the house. Some would say it was because of all the books stacked up in the Lightwoods' great library, the maps hanging on the walls and hiding in rolls in the corners, the magnificent sculptures and rare paintings – the Institute was treasury of information and culture.

Alec led his horse, Demon, to the stables. The stallion's black sides were steaming, and he was snorting over his master's head. Alec put one hand on the black head to caress the little white spot between Demon's eyes, trying to comfort him. The horse whined and tried to nibble at Alec's coat. The young heir laughed quietly at that. Jordan, the stable boy (or maybe Alec should have said, _stableman- _they were the same age) was already waiting for them. He bowed awkwardly, but smiled at Alec through his brown curls and it made up for lack of gracefulness.

"Please, take good care of him," said Alec. Quietly, as if in fear of breaking the heavy bubble of this late summer evening.

"I always do, my lord," Jordan responded and took Demon's bridle from the heir's hand.

After that, Alec decided to enter the house through back door. He didn't want to bother the servants or maybe he just wanted to hide the sighs escaping his lips. Both reasons were a sign of weakness in his father's eyes. But when he looked at the house, he always saw an estate, a stack of bricks that needed to be manage; he saw numbers and problems – not a _home. _It was still his home, for now. He obviously was attached to it. But the word 'legacy' hung above his head and the walls, and he simply couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew he should be grateful. Proud. _Happy. _He just hadn't ever had a choice. Maybe a concept of _choosing his own happiness _was truly ridiculous, it certainly sounded ridiculous in his head right know. To Alec, it seemed like the only available solution was to sneak up to his bedroom and clear his mind by sleeping. He ordered Church to stay downstairs, and without ringing for his valet Simon, he retired to bed.

_(His plan worked only partially. He still dreamt of butterflies.)_

* * *

The next morning, Alec woke up with an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He didn't remember his dream, but it left him shaky in a giddy way. It was difficult to explain: he opened his eyes, the curtains around his bed were drown, for one second he felt safe, like he was a little child enveloped in his mother's gentle singing. Then suddenly he remembered: he was eighteen years old, his mother had last sung to him years before the accident, and he certainly _wasn't a child. _What was he dreaming about? He felt… irritated.

He might have pulled the bell string a little bit too forcefully, and he immediately tried to calm his nerves. Simon shouldn't have to see him like that. Alec could deal with his own demons, he could.

There was a knock at the door and Simon the valet came in. He was young, only two or three years older than Alec; he had brown hair and a kind smile. He was also doe-eyed, a thing that constantly made him look like a kicked puppy.

"Good morning, my lord!" Simon said cheerfully.

Alec was ready to get dressed, and they started their morning routine. "Tell me, Simon, is Jace up already?"

"Yes, my lord. He left his bedroom about half an hour ago."

"And miss Isabelle?"

"I believe so, yes. Her voice could be heard downstairs shortly after dawn."

Alec snorted in response. "I don't doubt that."

Simon Lewis always seemed to be rather infatuated with Isabelle Lightwood. He talked about her on every possible occasion (though Alec's presence intimidated him a little bit - she was the heir's little sister after all), he followed her with those puppy eyes (when he thought nobody was looking, of course), he carried out her orders though he didn't have to - technically he was only Jace's and Alec's servant. Alec thought it was all rather… adorable, for the lack of better word. Isabelle was kind enough not to crush the poor boy's heart, and for that Alec was grateful – Simon was a good valet, he would hate for him to go.

"I think you're ready, my lord," Simon finally announced, after adjusting a simple white cravat around Alec's throat.

"Thank you, you're dismissed."

The valet bowed and left the room. Alec went through his mail, which Simon had brought him (as he did every morning) on a silver tray. There was nothing interesting there, just couple of things he would have to look into later. After that, he went downstairs, and he didn't even look in the mirror to assess Simon's hard work.

The dining room looked awfully empty when he entered it. It was a large airy room, windows reaching from the floor to the ceiling, white walls covered in golden ornaments, three golden chandeliers; long, long mahogany table, too many chairs around it. Only two of them where occupied: the one at the head was vacant, but on the right and left sat Jace and Isabelle. Jace was stuffing his mouth with sausages and eggs, and he so much as waved at Alec when he spotted him. He was sitting in a patch of early sunlight – a few rays had been caught up in his golden hair, creating some sort of halo around his head. Alec found it extremely ill-fitted, his brother was no angel. But he smiled when Jace's golden eyes rested on him for a second, and then the younger man was back at being disgusting and making truly repulsive noises.

Isabelle seemed unmoved by the things taking place in front of her. She looked stunning today. She was wearing light white dress that was baring her neck and shoulders in very flattering manner. The sleeves were trimmed with lace, and the material was creamiest than Isabelle's fair skin. Her dark, almost black hair was loosely pinned together, a few stray bangs hanging around her regular face. Her lids were half-closed, she was reading a paper (breakfast forgotten on her plate).

Alec – obviously – ought to do something about it. "Izzy, how many times do I have to repeat, do not read while attending meals." He moved to sit beside Jace, purposely ignoring the glaring seat at the head of the table. No matter how hard his siblings insisted, it was not his place, not yet.

"Oh, the pot is calling the kettle black!" Isabelle fired back. She abandoned her paper in favour of narrowing her eyes at Alec. "How many times have I seen you with a book under a table, hm? How many?"

Alec folded his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. Jace just laughed.

"She's got the point, brother. You're hopeless. She, at last, is reading some useful stuff."

"Books are not useless!" Alec muttered.

Isabelle chortled, and Jace rolled his eyes. "Like I said, hopeless."

Their little quarrel was interrupted by a servant, who brought Alec a new plate and a small teapot of hot water for his morning coffee. Isabelle picked her paper, so Alec (seeing no point in arguing any further), started eating without another word.

It was _so_ quiet. Alec could easily blocked the sounds coming from his right (he had seventeen years to get used to them, after all) and Isabelle was not her normal talkative self. The news must have been really absorbing. Their mother's absence downstairs wasn't as glaring as it was at the beginning, first few days after the accident . Now, two years later, they were used to it as well, they knew she was in her bedroom, mourning. Only another parent could understand her loss, but Robert thought his responsibility was to _business, _not his wife and his family. Alec swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

"What's so fascinating?" he asked grumpily few minutes later, after hearing Isabelle gasp for the hundredth time.

It was like Isabelle was only waiting for this. She folded the paper neatly and put her small hands on top of it (Alec knew it was no use, she was going to start gesticulating with enthusiasm as soon as she opened her mouth). She looked at him pointedly, then at Jace, and Alec could swear he could see a blush of excitement slowly forming on her cheeks. She began, "I was reading the gossip column-"

"Obviously," Alec and Jace said at the same time.

"- _and_," Isabelle seemed unfazed by their rudeness, "everyone is going on and on about some Indonesian-Dutch Prince. _Can you imagine?_ Apparently, he's very important and _rich _and _handsome-"_

"Isabelle!"

"- and he's coming to London for the next Season." She leaned back against her chair, looking very smug.

"Isabelle…" Alec started, but Jace interrupted him, "How handsome is he?" The blonde boy looked almost worried, but Alec could tell he was just mocking their sister.

"Isabelle," he intervened again. "The Season won't start for another… five, six months. It's September!"

Izzy just raised one perfect eyebrow. "Your point?"

"You're getting excited about something that might not even happen," Alec sighed.

Isabelle Lightwood was going to debut at the Court the oncoming Season. She was sixteen, and the only daughter in the family, there was no reason why she should wait any longer. Only, Alec was really worried. Izzy obviously couldn't wait (she was even a little mad when Mother didn't let her debut this year, but she had been mollified only when she'd found out that Clarissa Morgenstern was going to wait another year, just like her). Alec knew what Izzy was expecting: endless balls, tea parties, hordes of cow-eyed adorers at her feet. It maybe was like that, at the beginning. But in reality, it was just a market, where noblemen could ogle potential wives, pick them carefully while girls were just standing there obediently lined up against the wall. Oh, Izzy wasn't going to like that. He wanted to protect her- from disappointment, but above all, form unworthy husband. But how was he going to do that, when she was so e_ager, _she would probably just run off if she had to wait another year, and Alec sure as _hell _wasn't going to lock her up.

His train of thoughts was interrupted but Jace's rarely-serious voice. "Aww, Alec, why must you always ruin all the fun?"

"Because he's the older brother, it's his job," Izzy said, surprising the whole room. She smiled at Alec, then suddenly she was ice-faced again. "But Alexander Gideon Lightwood, I'm not naïve. You may think so, because I'm a _girl, _ but I'm also a Lightwood. I don't faint at the sight of blood. Jace probably does." The golden boy stuck his tongue at her, and Alec fought the urge to kick him under the table. "You're being overprotective. I can handle _men_, don't you worry."

There was a short silence, and then Jace snorted, "Right, I wonder how exactly you are going to 'handle' those men. This way?" He batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips. This time it was Izzy who kicked him in the shin, and she didn't seem to have some inner fight against it. But Jace deserved it, what he'd said was rude.

"I don't think about you badly. Not because you're a girl or for any other reason. I don't. At all," Alec just murmured and Isabelle rolled her eyes, but smiled at him nonetheless. It was their private smile, like they knew each other's thoughts, could read each other's minds without even trying.

Alec took a sip of his now-cool coffee, attempting to finish his breakfast. Jace now just seemed to lounge around, his feet kicked before him, his full belly in the air. Isabelle stood up, straighten her beautiful dress (it flowed to the ground like it was made of cobweb and mist, but she made a special show of arranging it around her ankles) and thanked for the meal. Then she turned to leave the dining room, but she stopped near the door, as if she'd forgotten something.

"Ah, one more thing, Alec," she threw over her shoulder. "Simon told me that Jordan told him that there's a man looking for a house in the vicinity. He wants to buy Idris House or he's already bought it? Anyway, you would probably want to look into it. Help him or just welcome him in our county. That's what you do, right brother?" She left with a warm smile and a flip of her black hair.

"I'll take care of it later. Tomorrow, probably," Alec murmured, putting away his silver cutlery. He was not hungry anymore, besides he had many things to do. He stood up, ready to leave. He asked Jace, "Do we know his name?"

His brother just shrugged. "Don't ask me, man. You always say you don't need my help, so I wouldn't register his name even if Isabelle shouted it to my ear."

"Alright. I'll see you at dinner." He was almost out of the door when Jace's yell stop him, "You don't need my help, right?"

"No!" was Alec's only reply.

* * *

**Tell me if you'd like to read more. If so, you'll meet Magnus in the next chapter, annnd... if you have any questions or some piece of advice (that would be appreciated :)) go right ahead.**

**Thank you for reading! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favs and follows :)) Here's chapter two. It took longer than I planned, but... Supernatural finale kind of broke my soul and... Let me just say, I know this chapter pretty much sucks and I'm sorry for that. I just wanted to get on with this. (I know, I'm terrible.) Also, sorry for the long-ass introduction, but it was necessary to show Alec's interactions with people working under him, to show how different he is than his father and maybe to introduce you to this little nagging voice in his head. In the Malec part, I don't know what happened? They just talk, and I write. Please forgive me for this chapter and let's hope I'll do better next time...?**

* * *

First thing after breakfast, Alec met with Hodge. Old man Starkweather used to be Alec's and Jace's tutor when they were younger, now he was managing the Institute and the nearest lands. He was the heir's right hand and- Alec liked to think- a good friend. Hodge was never afraid to speak his mind, he offered good advice, he was loyal.

Now his was bending his grey head and speaking in a gruff, familiar voice, "Good morning, my lord. I hope miss Isabelle and master Jonathan are well?" It was an unwritten rule in the Lightwood's house, not to speak of Lady Lightwood's condition.

"Yes, thank you Hodge, they are. You could always ask them yourself, they like you."

"That's really kind, my lord. But I would rather not, it wouldn't be appropriate." Alec just nodded- the older man, as usual, was right.

They started walking across the gravelly forecourt, Hodge filling Alec in with the most recent matters. The weather was quite nice, though the heaviness from the day before still hadn't left the air. It was going to rain soon, Alec noticed absentmindedly, and Hodge agreed with him.

They decided that the most pressing matter is the leaking roof in the main house – winter was coming, and it was high time to do the repairs. Hodge promised to take care of it immediately.

The men parted ways in front of the stable, so Alec used this opportunity to talk to Jordan. The brown-haired boy was sitting in a low, wooden stool and he was polishing metal bits. His brow was furrowed, like he was really focusing on his job.

"How are you today, Jordan?" At first, Alec slipped only his head through the door, and no sooner than the startled boy jumped to his feet, did he fully come inside.

"My lord!" Jordan's eyes flicked up to Alec's face, and then he was back looking at his dirty hands. "I'm well, thank you very much. Would you like me to saddle up Demon?"

"Yes, indeed, I'll need him in a moment. But I came here to ask you something."

"Me?" Jordan mumbled.

"Yes, you've told Simon recently about some newcomer, is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord, I think he's interested in Idris House."

"Very well, do you know his name?"

"No, my lord, but I don't think he gave one. He seems like a private kind of person." Suddenly Jordan looked like he just now remembered who he was talking to, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, my lord."

Alec smirked a little. "Don't worry, I understand it's big news." People looking for a place so deep in the country side were a rare case. The stableman let out a puff of breath. "Alright, prepare Demon. Lead him out in twenty minutes, would you?"

"Of course, my lord. Have a good day!"

"You too, Jordan." Alec smiled as he was leaving. He decided to go the village first and help farmer Wayland with his problem - he had been complaining to Hodge about something for quite some time already. After that, if a daytime was long enough, he would look into the mysterious man's case and properly welcome him in the county.

* * *

First, Alec needed to change his clothes. His tailcoat wouldn't do any good in the village, so he abandoned it. He was left in a simple white shirt and sulphur-coloured vest, knee-high boots on his legs. It wasn't by any means gentlemanly look, but he was planning on working, not attending some tea party. He only hoped he wouldn't meet any ladies, who could have been scandalized by his lack of clothing. He mentally snorted.

Demon was already waiting for him, digging into the gravel with his horseshoe. They set off immediately, and arrived to the village before noon. When Alec appeared among the streets, people recognized him instantly. The villagers started greeting him from afar, bowing at him stopping in the middle of their activities, some of them even waved shamelessly. The heir was eager to respond, hiding his bewilderment under false self-confidence. He still hadn't become accustomed to having people's attention - he had lived under his father's shadow until not long ago, when Lord Lightwood had decided that his son was ready to share some of his duties. And here Alec was, handing his blessings, feeling slightly ridiculous.

People seemed to like him, they trusted him with their problems, they confided in him. And he was always there for them, ready to listen and help. Unlike his father before him, who was always absent and communicated with them through various managers, Alec was ready to step right into the mud, to dirty his hands. The people had been surprised at first – sometimes they still were – but grateful all the same. They called him _kind._

It turned out Wayland had some troubles with one of his machines: it was most likely broken. That problem Alec could solve easily, he was there to support his men and as a lord he was the one who sponsored needed machines. Wayland insisted to show him the exact damage, even though Alec trusted his word right away (_oh, Father would have laughed_). He led Alec to the fields and they spent the majority of the day there. Discussing inventive techniques, assessing this year's crops. Wayland's wife had packed his husband some blueberry pie, and the farmer and Alec shared lunch. Oh, Alec prayed to God that his father's spies' eyes weren't on him at the moment. Robert Lightwood would despise him: an heir, sharing meal with a _peasant_, eating without a napkin, getting his fingers dirty with crust and blueberry juice! Unthinkable! Alec shook off those dreadful thoughts and soon he decided it was time to go back home. It was five o'clock, he missed the afternoon tea, but at least he always tried to be at home for dinner with family. His remaining family.

A path through the fields seemed more convenient, Alec thought he could use a walk to cool off. He was sweaty, his shirt stuck to his shoulder blades, his hair damp and messy. His hands were dirty with grease, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms shiny. He looked such a sight. He'd left Demon in the village, so he asked Wayland to bring him home the next day. The farmer walked away in deep bows.

* * *

An hour later Alec was still wandering around the moors. He realized he was too exhausted- but in a good, satisfied way- to be in a hurry. Besides, the light evening breeze was so pleasantly cooling… The sky was pink above his head, the ground warm and soft under his feet. Soon, Alec found himself in the vicinity of Idris House, he could almost see the white building, peeking through sparse trees. His legs must have carried him there unconsciously. He decided to take just one small look, maybe he would catch a glimpse of this newcomer, just a silhouette?

His general state was far from presentable, as a county representative he couldn't risk meeting the mysterious gentleman. He would just go around the house and in the back (this was his path anyway) and try to stay unnoticed. Maybe, with a bit of luck, he would run into a random servant and he could ask about their master. That sounded like a wonderful plan (_Lightwood_, _you_ _sly_ _strategic_).

He turned around the corner of the black iron fence (the trees blocked his view of the house) and… someone was there. In the high yellow grass, on a rock that looked more like a post marking old crossroads, there was a man sitting. His back was hunched, his long slim legs threw before him. From his clothes: simple black trousers and a white shirt, Alec couldn't make out if the stranger was a nobleman or a servant, if he was rich or poor, but he for sure was young. His head was hung; his black shiny hair, long and reaching halfway to his shoulders was like a curtain around his face. Alec couldn't see the man's expression, but he seemed deeply troubled. Alec was only few steps away and he couldn't resist coming closer. As if there was some invisible force pulling him towards this man (or maybe, it was his _gentle _heart that ordered him to help the stranger, but it was truly ridiculous concept), he simply couldn't stop.

"Hello," Alec said, his voice both loud in the peaceful evening and incredibly small. "Do you need any help, sir?"

The dark head snapped up at him, and Alec mentally gasped. Or maybe he gasped for real, puff of air violently kicked out from his lungs. They were the most extraordinary eyes Alec had ever seen. Yellow-green, like a cat's, amber from one angle where the setting sun was playing in them, and unimaginably green from the other where the sky was already darker (yes, Alec checked, he must have looked like an insane person, cocking his head to peer from different angles at a _damn s_tranger). The man was like a cross between a panther and an elf (_what a ridiculous simile, Alexander). _Maybe he was a fairy prince, maybe Alec should ask?

"You have the most amazing eyes," and, to Alec's immense surprise, those weren't his own words, "_sir_. Are you an apparition?" The stranger's voice was really pleasant, silky and warm, with a slight accent.

Alec cleared his throat. "Ah. No, I am not. I don't think so." _What on earth was wrong with him?_

Again, the fairy prince surprised him – he laughed, short, clear sound. He threw back his head, exposing his throat (he had no cravat) and Alec could see the bobbing Adam apple and a patch of caramel skin, leading under the white thin material. Alec needed to find some sense, and soon, because he was quickly getting lost.

He licked his lips, his throat suddenly felt dry. "Is everything alright, sir?" he asked again. But the man didn't look miserable anymore, with his back straight and his eyes finally visible and so, so _bright. _

The stranger tilted his head. "Nooo," he answered slowly. "It is not."

"How can I help?" Alec jumped in. "Maybe there's someone at the house who could help us? Are you hurt? Sir?"

"Nah, I've just left it." There was something charming about this nonchalance, like he didn't care if the Heavens were burning or it was just a lightning storm. "I needed to get out of there, even for a moment."

Alec squinted his eyes. "Pardon?"

"Just, finding a new home is really troublesome. I bought this house yesterday and it's already driving me _crazy_." The stranger- the mysterious newcomer- massaged his temple in a theatrical gesture.

Alec's head was spinning. So this man, this was their new neighbour? He blurted out, "Oh. Welcome to the county. I'm Alexander Lightwood."

The man slowly turned his head to look at him – earlier, he'd found something fascinating on the horizon, and he just stared. (Maybe he did care.) Then he stood up, slowly, _lazily_, with his eyes still on the heir. Alec was suddenly remembered of the state of his clothing, his sweaty and dirty shirt, his lack of tailcoat and hat (though the stranger didn't have them either), of his messy hair, probably calloused hands, muddy shoes. He felt himself blushing.

"Forgive my rudeness, lord Lightwood," the man murmured. "I didn't know. My name is Magnus Bane." He bowed slightly.

Alec fought the urge to say the exotic name aloud, to taste it on his tongue. Instead, he responded in the same manner, just a light nod of his head. "I'm not _the _lord. I'm the son." He smiled at the look on the stranger's, _Magnus', _face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. How should I address you?" Maybe it wasn't the most subtle way to ask, but the man gave him only his Christian name and a surname. He knew nothing of his background, but the man seemed to do it on purpose.

And indeed, "I told you my name. Isn't that enough?"

Alec blushed, again. He stuttered, "I couldn't possibly- I can't-"

Magnus waved his hand - very elegant, long-fingered hand. "You can, and you will, Alexander. I'm not from here, you'll just have to bear with my barbarian manners."

A very inappropriate thought crossed Alec's mind: Magnus' words meant they were going to see each other again, and that he would have to get used to Magnus' quirks, that he would have time to get used to them… Oh, of course they were going to see each other again. They were neighbours. Magnus didn't mean anything special by that. What was Alec thinking, anyway?

"Actually," Magnus started and Alec's attention was back at him, "before you showed up I was contemplating leaving this place. And then you brutally interrupted me-"

"I didn't-"

"See, you're doing this again, my lord. Anyway, I was fed up with the weather. It's too… muggy."

Magnus sighed, as if trying to emphasize his point, and Alec slowly lifted up his palm in a 'halt' gesture and he would have stopped him mid-breath if Magnus had taken him seriously.

"Just wait for the winter," Alec said simply. "I promise you will breathe again."

The long-haired man blinked: once, twice. "I've made my decision before you said that."

"Oh."

"I'm staying." Then Magnus smiled, but there were hints of something trembling around the edges, as if he wasn't accustomed to using those face muscles or he didn't quite mean what he said or he knew he shouldn't have. The smile stabilized though, when Alec mirrored his expression- with much more proficiency, but shyer at the same time.

"Well," Alec said after a moment of silence, "do you need any help with the house?"

"If you are offering…" Alec made a deep obeisance, sweeping the ground with his invisible fancy hat and hiding a playful smile in the collar of his shirt. "…then I gladly accept. Would you do me an honour of meeting me here tomorrow morning?"

Alec agreed and they parted company. It was nightfall, the final battle of the sun against the moon. On the way back home, Alec started whistling quietly. No matter how childish it sounded (there were no spies inside his head, he thought) it felt amazing to talk to another human being who, for a change, was about his age. He wondered if he could hope to have a friend in this one.

Oh, and he didn't make it to dinner. Little sister was furious.

**Please review if you have time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sooo, here's chapter 3. **

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe. Thank you, darling! *heart* She's such a lovely person and a wonderful, wonderful writer. :)**

**I just want to mention, when I was writing the second part of this chapter, the 'Malec part', there was this song stuck in my head. _The Forgotten _by Green Day. And it actually suits the story, and it's so beautiful, and I think it describes perfectly the beginning of their relationship. _"Don't look away from the arms of love", _you know? Ahh, I'm such a sap... ;) **

**Okay, sweethearts, thank you so much for reading this, and reviews are love! **

* * *

That night, Alec dreamt of nothing. And when he woke up, feeling weirdly excited and unnerved at the same time, it was different. Finally, it was reality that caused butterflies in his stomach, not phantom visions that he couldn't even remember.

He jumped out of his bed and padded towards the window. His forecast from the day before came true: it must have rained earlier in the morning; the glass was wet, a trail of rain drops smeared across Alec's pale reflection. He didn't like that image, not when he felt like smiling all day until his cheeks hurt, so he opened the window. He pushed his face into the fresh, chilly air. The moors smelled pure and he suspected that he could have tasted _rainbows _if he had stuck out his tongue. He didn't, of course, it was an immature thing to do, but he had to fight the urge with all his willpower.

He rang for Simon and asked for his breakfast to be delivered to his bedroom. It was an ungodly early hour, he knew his siblings wouldn't be up yet and he did not fancy eating alone in the dining room. While he was eating (delicious warm scones and waffles, golden butter and pear preserve) he tried to lessen his excitement. He should not feel so ridiculously joyful about carrying out his duties. Because, after all, helping the newcomers to settle in _was_ one of his duties as an heir. The silver knife dinged against his plate when his hand shook, the movement beyond Alec's control. His leg was bouncing up and down, so he folded it underneath himself. Soon, he was practically jumping in his seat. Frustrated (and confused with himself, because his body was acting very strangely, but his brain didn't seem to mind), he moved his half-eaten breakfast away. Simon came in soon after that, as if he had been just waiting for Alec to finish.

"Have you chosen your attire for today, my lord?" The valet always asked that, and Alec always just waved his hand and grabbed the first thing that came to hand.

Not this time though, and Alec felt _stupid_ for that. "Uh, I'll wear the blue tailcoat." It was one of his best ones, velvet and rarely worn. He really wanted to erase the bad first impression from Mister Bane's mind. "And the black waistcoat." That should tone it down a little bit. He was going to work, for Christ's sake!

"Of course, my lord." Simon nodded. He got down to work and Alec zoned out for a while, deep in his racing, nonsensical thoughts.

He was brought back to reality by the sound of a brush running across his velvet-clad shoulder (too close to his ear), and by Simon's voice, "My lord, Miss Isabelle wants to see you before you leave."

"How does she know I'm leaving?"

"She asked me."

"She's up?"

Simon paused. "No, my lord. She's still in bed."

Alec turned to look at his valet. Simon was standing still, the brush clutched in his hand, head hung low, eyes staring at the floor. "Then how come you talked to her?"

His Adam's apple gave a frantic bob. "We talked through the closed door…? She must have heard me passing through the hall."

Alec shook his head. He was being paranoid. Isabelle would never let Simon (or any man she was not married to) see her in her nightgown. "Alright," he murmured. He felt really bad for cornering Simon like that. The poor lad looked close to panic. "Am I ready?"

"Yes!" the valet almost yelled. "Yes, my lord."

Alec slipped two of his fingers between his neck and the cravat and loosened it a little. He closed his eyes and let a puff of air through his nose. God, he couldn't breathe in those things. When he opened his eyes, the valet was still there, standing awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom. Alec said, "That would be all, Simon." The brown-haired boy turned to leave. "And thank you for passing on Isabelle's message," the heir added. Simon's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't say anything. A few seconds later he was gone.

Alec did not have another reason to delay his departure any longer. Ignoring his mail glaring at him from a silver plate, he went to see Isabelle.

Her bedroom door was at the end of the corridor. He knocked twice, softly, and then came in.

Isabelle was sitting in her bed, almost invisible under a pile of duvets and pillows. She was propped up against the headboard, a paper on her lap. A good brother should probably forbid her to read so much, she could have started to form her own opinions and that was dangerous, but Alec wasn't going to. Isabelle's interest in news from the world, her curiosity, those were noble traits in Alec's eyes.

"Good morning, Isabelle," he said. "What's the matter?"

She brushed aside her loose hair to look at him. "Hello, brother." She smiled at him, a small roguish smile. "There is no _matter; _I just wanted to see you."

"What do you mean, Isabelle? I have no time for this, I need to go."

"Where?" she blurted out.

Alec frowned at her. "Out. I have work to do."

Isabelle folded her paper in two and put it on her nightstand. There was an almost burned candle, and that meant Isabelle had stayed up late last night, reading. Novels, probably, she loved those. Alec would know, after all, he was the one who had introduced her to this world, the world of wonders and adventures. When they were children, they used to spend hours and hours in the library, all four of them. Sharing enormous plush armchairs, sometimes bent over one book that was sitting on Alec's lap. The eldest boy would read aloud, Izzy would help to turn pages, and Jace would gaze steadily at the letters, chin resting on Alec's shoulder, lips occasionally moving with Alec's words. Max usually would be asleep after the first few paragraphs. It all had changed after the accident. Then Alec turned sixteen, he got his own office filled with books, and like his father said, 'it was time to grow up'. Jace and Izzy just stopped their reading sessions; they didn't want to attend them when their brothers were not around anymore, both gone in a different way.

Now Isabelle was looking at him with the same dark, wise eyes. "I heard you whistling yesterday."

Alec shuffled in his spot. "So?"

Alec whistling was as rare as Alec making jokes. "Is the reason you're up so early is the same reason why you were so happy yesterday?" she just asked.

"Izzy, what are you saying?" he sighed. "I'm going to work."

"Your work has never given you so much joy before. I'm glad that's changed." Was she mocking him?

"I really don't know what you are implying." It was not a lie, he'd been confused by a lot of things lately. Like his body's reactions or his sister's exceptional observation skills.

Isabelle eyed him up and down one more time. Then she said abruptly, "If so, have a good day."

"What are you playing at, Izzy?" He truly hated those moments, when they couldn't _understand _each other right away. Especially when it felt like it was his fault. "Are you angry with me now?" He wanted to come up to her and embrace her, in hope of pouring his thoughts straight to her mind. They used to be good at telepathy, once.

Izzy lost her attitude at once. A long, resigned breath left her chest. "I'm not angry with you, Alec. I just…" She bit her lip, hesitant about continuing. "I just wish you would talk to me more. I used to know what was on your mind all the time. Now… those blue eyes are foreign to me."

Alec flinched. "Don't say that, Izzy. Please, don't say that." She smiled weakly and Alec looked down. "I promise to tell you as soon as I figure it out."

His sister seemed to relax after that. "Alright," she murmured. "Make sure you do. Now go, I want to get dressed." She pulled out her pale arm from under the duvets to ring for Maia, her maid.

Alec muttered his good-byes and turned to leave the room. The door was almost closed after him, when he heard Isabelle's voice, "And you look very nice, little brother!" she yelled after him, and Alec nearly tripped over.

"I'm not your 'little brother'," he mumbled, only half-angrily, even though she couldn't hear him anymore.

* * *

Though Demon had been safely delivered to the stables earlier that morning, Alec chose to take a walk. Church wanted to join him, very excited about the prospect of meeting someone new, but his master ordered him to stay home (and watch over Jace). Idris House wasn't that far, and soon Alec was standing at its gates.

The building was less impressive than the Institute, but it had its own charm, an entirely different atmosphere. It was bright, for once. Built of white brick, it _glowed _at night, and during the daytime it would give the impression of a safe, inviting haven. It was symmetrical and _pretty, _and Alec had always mourned the fact that the house stayed uninhabited for years. He would have patted the old walls encouragingly now, if the concept of being happy for an inanimate building hadn't been considered lunatic.

Alec took the knocker into his hand - it was strangely warm (and _what if houses could feel after all? _God, he was being childish since dawn this day), and let it rattle against the wood. However, the door didn't open. Truth be told, the house seemed to be deserted (no moving curtains in the windows, no smoke rising from the chimney) and it was rather early, but Alec expected that at least servants would be awake. After a short moment of thought, he decided to let himself in. He had an appointment; he was not going to back out now.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the building was the smell, heavy and dusty. It was clear that the house was empty for a long time, and only recently someone had bought it. Alec followed the corridor, every piece of furniture he passed was covered by white cloth, and it looked like nobody had made any attempt to make this place more adapted for living in. Finally, when he reached the end of the corridor, something caught his attention; a fresh wave of air, inviting him to come to the room on his right. This one's doors were slightly ajar, the sunlight escaping through the gap. And, there it was again, that strange power, _beckoning _him to come closer, closer, _closer_.

Alec slipped into the room. It was bright and chilly, all the windows were wide open, every speck of dust visible in the blinding light. There were some pieces of furniture pushed against the walls, so the middle of the room would be vacant. Except, Magnus was sitting there on the floor, cross-legged, going through a stack of letters. He was barely clothed: only a thin white shirt, a navy waistcoat - unbuttoned, patterned with some little yellow stains; loose-fitting trousers, and bare feet. His hair was pulled up into a ponytail, exposing his high cheekbones and the elegant curve of his neck. There were some saucers scattered around him, the dried wax on them the only proof of now completely burned out candles. Had he been sitting here all night?

Alec was actually aware that he was _staring, _and that it was impolite of him, and that he should have wanted to stop. Only, he didn't.

"Good morning," he finally uttered. He took a few steps closer, and stopped when Magnus' head whipped around to look at him.

"Alexander!" Magnus cried out. His face visibly brightened, but then he frowned. "Did Ragnor let you in? I thought he was out…"

"No," Alec hastened to explain, "I took the liberty of letting myself in, I hope it's alright, there was no one there-"

"Relax, I'm glad you did. Feel free to do that anytime," he winked and then made an inviting gesture with his hands. "Here, sit down."

Alec looked around sheepishly: there were no chairs within his eyesight, and Magnus himself was sitting on the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, as you can see the state of my house is disastrous, I'm afraid I don't have any chairs to offer you right now. They're all dusty or dirty or _holey_, for God's sake, I have no idea what is wrong with people these days!" Magnus managed to look both apologetic and angry at the same time, but there was also something _mischievous _in his yellow-green eyes. As if he was challenging Alec, testing him. Checking if he was really born with a silver spoon in his mouth and there was absolutely nothing they could do to _save _him.

But when Alec moved to sit down, Magnus didn't look surprised. He just smiled warmly as Alec took a place opposite him.

"Who's Ragnor?" Alec asked after he folded his legs carefully beneath himself, and then added quickly, "If I may ask?"

Magnus looked at him funnily (now, when Alec was closer, he could see that those little yellow specks on Magnus' waistcoat were actually stars) and answered, "Ragnor is my only companion for now. You could call him a servant, yes, but he's more than that. Well, he's my butler and my valet, and apparently my errand-boy too. Sometimes, I swear, I think he's some kind of magician, he's versatile and indestructible."

Alec chuckled at that, "Well then, I'm glad you have him."

And there it was: another look. Cast from behind thick, black eyelashes, yet far from shy. "But he can't cook, not for all the world." Magnus pondered for a moment. "I need a cook."

"I can help you find one," Alec offered. "I know people from the village, I'm certain there are women looking for a job."

"Alright, I'll hold you to that." Magnus picked up a pencil and scribbled something out of what seemed to be a list of things to do. Then he yawned, a short mewling sound escaping the back of his throat (_not adorable, absolutely not adorable!) _and he actually had the decency to blush, just a smear of red on the apple of his cheeks.

"How long have you been sitting here?" Alec asked, concern colouring his voice.

"I have… weird sleeping habits," Magnus responded. He brushed the topic aside with a shrug. "Actually, you made me realize I'm kind of hungry. Fancy joining me in my kitchen? I'm afraid we'll have to prepare our meal with our own hands."

Alec jumped to his feet. "Stop making fun of me. I know how to do _things._" He wasn't really angry, he was used to people thinking of him as 'high-born' and therefore unaccustomed to any kind of physical work. They were wrong and Alec hoped Magnus would know that; wasn't he one of _them? _

Magnus followed him, all cat-like movements, very graceful. He was on his feet in what felt like one second, despite the whole air of _laziness _in his manner. He then stretched his arms high above his head (did Alec hear purring…?), exposing a strip of golden skin right above the waistband of his trousers. Alec looked away with a gulp.

"Please excuse my state of clothing," Alec heard Magnus saying. Did the man interpret Alec avoiding looking at him as _disgust? _

"It's perfectly fine," Alec interrupted him quickly. "I, myself, wasn't in my best condition yesterday."

"Hmm, I don't know," Magnus looked at him appraisingly, "I think I prefer you in your former attire." Alec blushed furiously; he just knew he was as red as a beetroot. Then Magnus added, "I like the tailcoat, though. Blue." As if 'blue' held all the meaning in the world and had the power to solve all the problems, and then Magnus _grinned, _all white teeth and crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

What could Alec do- he ducked his head, trying to hide his shy, shy smile, and said quietly, "Thank you. I think your waistcoat is funny."

Magnus gasped at that, and when Alec looked at him (afraid he unintentionally offended the man), his eyes were wide and _teary, _his shoulder shaking from holding back laughter. Alec's lips quivered and it was then when Magnus gave up: he burst out laughing, almost bending in half.

Alec joined him - Magnus' laughter was contagious - and in that moment they were just two boys, standing in the middle of a cluttered room, nearly strangers but acquainted enough to make each other feel silly with happiness, if only for this one second.

* * *

When they stepped out into the corridor, they were attacked by a blurred shape. Alec yelped when a small dog collided with his legs, yapping at him and apparently demanding to be patted.

"This is Chairman Meow," Magnus announced after Alec crouched down to fulfil the dog's wish. The owner added proudly, "He's my hunting dog."

Being now eye-to-eye with the dog, Alec could see it was a Corgi. He had giant ears, legs too short in comparison with his elongated trunk, a white-brownish-silver coat and a pair of light blue eyes. But it _was _a Corgi, so something was wrong with this picture. Alec looked up at Magnus, "You know these aren't hunting dogs, right? They are shepherds."

Magnus held Alec's gaze, unblinking, unmoved by Alec's revealing words. He said slowly, "Yeah, I could use a shepherd."

It was Alec who finally broke the eye-contact, swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat. Then he actually registered what Magnus had said earlier, "Wait a minute, you named your dog _Chairman Meow?"_

The dog barked in confirmation. Magnus' face was a definition of innocent. "Yes?"

Alec just shook his head. He scratched Chairman behind his ridiculously big ear one more time and stood up. The dog waved his tail at him and didn't seem eager to leave his side any time soon.

"He likes you," Magnus remarked.

Alec turned to look at the man, smiling, but was met with a curious, scrutinizing gaze. As if Magnus was seeing him for the first time a_gain. _

"He probably can smell my dog," Alec said, trying to sound care-free and to clear the suddenly electrifying atmosphere.

Magnus seemed to rouse himself from his meditation, but he was still a little absentminded when he said, "What's his name?" Alec told him and Magnus whistled, "Oh my, you are the one to judge."

Alec snorted with laughter. They headed for the kitchen, Chairman Meow close on their heels. The kitchen was at the far end of the building, pretty much in the same state as every room Alec that had passed in the house. Magnus disappeared for a moment in the larder and came back with an armful of food. There was some cold meat, bread, cheese, walnuts and fruits: wild strawberries, blackberries, currants.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything fancier to offer you, my lord," Magnus said with feign embarrassment.

Alec chuckled, failing to keep his solemn expression, "This is good enough for me, sir." He shook off his tailcoat and placed it on the nearest stool, then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He found some knives, and after Magnus left to fetch two plates for them, he started cutting the food into portions. His hands moved with unforced precision, he was familiar with sharp tools and devices. He didn't notice Magnus watching him at first, but he smiled when their eyes finally met. And Magnus nearly dropped the porcelain dishes.

When their meals were ready, they returned to the previous room (Magnus explained it was a day room - or at least it would be in the nearest future). They settled comfortably with their backs against the wall, their legs lined up, thighs and knees and calves _almost_ touching. Alec could easily feel the heat of Magnus' body even through the layers of their clothing, and it felt so strange that he wanted to move closer and to run away at the same time.

"_Bon_ _appétit_," Magnus said and they started eating. Getting their fingertips dirty and not worrying about it for once.

"Alexander?" Magnus started after a moment of silence. "Would you describe yourself as creative?"

Alec peered at him with curiosity, but Magnus was looking straight ahead, his face a mask. "I don't know. Not really."

"Pity." Magnus tossed a single blackberry into his mouth, then chewed thoughtfully around it. "Never mind. I still think you would be of use."

"Oh yes?"

Magnus finally looked at him, a ghost of smile already forming on his lips. "I'm planning to design some of my furniture. And you'll help me." Alec started shaking his head. "You _will _help me, Alexander; I need you to be my voice of reason." _I need you. _"Please?"

"Alright," Alec surrendered astonishingly easily. "But why? There are plenty of good designers out there, why won't you hire them? Besides, you have furniture. I find it hard to believe every piece is destroyed beyond help."

Magnus shuffled so he was sitting face to face with Alec, instead of cranking his neck to look at him. "Well yes, and I'll use many of them, but I want something _mine. _I feel a constant urge to pour myself into inanimate objects and give them soul. Do you understand? I need something that will reflect me, that will scream _Magnus Bane, _and that will make me proud. Can you understand that?"

Alec nodded. "Yes. Yes, I can. I do."

Magnus sighed happily and returned to his previous position. He finished his meal and then licked his fingers clean. Alec's eyes widened: Magnus' lips wrapped around one of his fingers, sucking, making really obscene noises. Alec fought the urge to close his eyes and count back from ten. Something wild settled low in his stomach and he didn't know what that was, and it was s_cary. _

Once their bellies were full, they moved their plates aside. The enormous windows were in front of them, still opened, giving them a perfect view of the moors and letting a light breeze in.

Alec felt strangely content, sitting there next to a half-lying Magnus. They shared silence, they breathed the same air - their shared space in the universe. That one corner, it was _theirs._

"Magnus," Alec said quietly and Magnus lifted his head from his spot on the floor. Something difficult to describe flashed across his face and Alec realized it was the first time he called Magnus by his first name. "We were supposed to be working, you know."

Magnus' head hit the floor with a thud. He closed his eyes. "Don't tell me you want me to get up from this marvellously comfortable floor. Here, try it yourself." He opened one eye and waited for Alec to join him.

Alec slid down the wall, ignoring the voice in his head - his father's voice - and lay down next to Magnus. He'd left his tailcoat in the kitchen, so there was only his shirt between the hard floor and his back. But the wood was warm, heated up by the sun, and the sensation was incredibly pleasant against his naked forearms. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of their even breathing. Alec's and Magnus' pinkies bumped against each other, a feather-like touch, and this time Alec unconsciously decided against running away. It was 'moving closer' from now on.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, sweethearts. I'm sorry it took so long, and that it's so short. But. I decided to divide this chapter in two, because uhh it just didn't seem right to me. So, the second part is already written and you can expect an update pretty soon, maybe even tomorrow :) **

**I just want to remind you, the 'things' in this fic will be progressing really slowly. Slowly building sexual tension etc, yes. No kissing for another... few chapters. 'Kay? You know how it is. We're in the Jane Austen!universe ;P **

**Beta'ed by wonderful ChaseThisLightWithMe :) She's so patient with me, thank you sunshine :3**

**Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

Alec had been asked to come back to Idris House the very next day. (In fact, Magnus hadn't given him too much of a choice. When they were saying their goodbyes in the late afternoon the previous day, Magnus had _announced, _"We are going to start working on our designs tomorrow." Alec hadn't even thought about declining.)

And there he was, standing at Magnus' doorstep, the tip of his nose slowly turning pink in the cool morning air. The sun was bright and the sky clear, only a few fluffy cloudlets scattered across the baby blue. But still, there was a coldness in the air, creeping into Alec's bones, making his shoulders shiver from time to time. September weather was treacherous – one could be chilled to the marrow in the morning, and then get a sudden urge to take off one's coat to stop sweating so much in the warm afternoon sun.

He had left early (more like _sneaked out _from his own house), this time managing to avoid Isabelle's prying questions. He had dismissed Hodge's attempts to talk to him with a single, "Later!". He felt guilty for a moment - he shouldn't have treated the old man with such unceremonious manners, but then the doors of Idris House opened before him, and all his previous thoughts left his mind. He was immediately enveloped in the miraculously familiar and comforting scent, his brain getting foggy with its intensity. Yet the man standing now in front of him was not Magnus Bane. The stranger looked about thirty years old, maybe younger. He had fair hair and greenish skin that made him look sick or just plain unhappy.

"Good morning," he said, "Mister Lightwood, I presume?" Alec nodded, but he had a feeling that the man would continue his monotone speech regardless of the answer. "My name is Ragnor and I steward this den of misery."

So that was Ragnor, the famous magician? He was younger than Alec had expected. Once, Magnus had mentioned he'd known Ragnor since he was a little child (and abruptly stopped at that information, as if he'd said too much). After that Alec had imagined the man as Magnus' guardian rather than… playmate.

"Maybe you would be able to pour some sense into him," Ragnor was saying now, stepping aside to let Alec in. The heir ignored the lack of 'my lord'; it seemed that everything and everyone of the Bane household was rather… informal. "He has been infuriating the whole day," it was barely nine in the morning, "of course, he infuriates me normally, but today he is absolutely unbearable." Alec was rendered speechless; such relationship between a servant and his master was foreign to him. The way Ragnor spoke of Magnus- as if the younger man was a spoiled brat- but with a hint of affection; he didn't know that it was _possible. _But then, Magnus called Ragnor his 'companion', which sounded a lot like a 'friend'. "He won't tell me what happened, he just screams at me in a language even I don't know. But it must be bad news, he received this letter…"

That caught Alec's attention right away. "Where is he?" he asked, his nerves on alert. He might have been amused by Ragnor's attitude, but what if something really serious had happened?

"In the day room. Pacing up and down, I imagine."

Alec knew the way, so he just thanked Ragnor and left him in the hallway, hurrying to see Magnus. Once he was at the right door, he knocked twice and barged in, but was caught off guard by the change of scenery. It was the same room, but different: some pieces of furniture had disappeared, some had been uncovered and arranged, and all that had happened in one night. Magnus was there too, also changed. His hair was loose, straight as straws, dangling around his face. He was, for once, properly dressed, even if a little bit extravagant. He was wearing a black tailcoat with golden patterns on the sleeves, and it made his whole figure seem really _dark. _Ragnor's predictions turned out to be correct: Magnus was pacing furiously around the room, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Alec closed the door after himself. The noise made Magnus look up and notice him.

"A catastrophe!" Magnus exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. He looked more furious than sad, and that somehow managed to soothe Alec's nerves. Then Magnus added in a heartbroken voice, "A complete disaster."

"What happened?" Alec stepped closer, feeling like he was playing with a wild beast.

He didn't need to worry though; at the sound of his voice Magnus limbs seemed to give up and he slumped on the nearest armchair. He bent over himself, hid his face in his hands. "My clavichord," he mumbled into his palms. "There's been an accident and my clavichord is _lost. _Broken." He straightened up to peek at Alec. "_Damn it,_ I loved that instrument."

Alec reached for a chair and moved it closer, then sat next to Magnus. "Hey," he murmured and put his palm on Magnus' shoulder, because he didn't know what else to say. It sounded like that clavichord was so much more than an instrument, like it was a piece of Magnus' soul, and Alec knew that it was possible. People tended to get attached to soulless objects, especially when they had the power of _creation _in them (the objects or the people, it didn't matter). He'd never had such a connection in his life, but he had heard of it. Quite literally. Or maybe the clavichord belonged to his family, maybe it was impossibly precious? Magnus seemed like a person in need of something that would remind him of home.

Alec didn't say any of that out loud, instead, being his insensitive self, he muttered, "I didn't know you could play."

He had his eyes fixed on Magnus intertwined hands (his long, elegant fingers suddenly made so much more sense, and now Alec couldn't stop imagining them running across the cold keys), and he almost knocked Magnus on the chin with his head when he heard him chuckle. He raised his eyes and saw one corner of Magnus' lips raised, a tiny little smile.

"I haven't had the occasion to tell you," Magnus said, his voice steadier. _We've known each other for two whole days, silly, w_ritten across his face. "Or to show you. And now I will never have." He winced as if the thought physically hurt him.

"You may still have," Alec started, unsure how Magnus would react. "There is a clavichord at the Institute. Nobody plays it, Izzy prefers the harp. I know it's not the same… But you could use it, at least until you buy a new one?"

Magnus looked at him very closely. He didn't comment on the fact that Alec practically invited him to his house, quite ineptly, but still, it was a very sweet gesture. Instead, he casually threw, "_Izzy?" _

Alec let out a puff of air. He nearly _whined_, maybe in frustration or maybe of hurt, because somehow Magnus managed to decline his offer without even acknowledging it out loud. "Isabelle. My sister," he explained. He could talk about his siblings; it was an easy subject, a s_afe _subject. If that was the distraction Magnus needed right now, he could do it. "She has her phases. A couple of years ago she _demanded _to be taught how to play the clavichord, but she got bored soon after. Now she claims to love the harp." This time as he was speaking, his eyes were glued to his own hands. "She's quite good at it." Magnus hands were just too _beautiful; _looking at them somehow didn't feel comfortable, Alec felt as if didn't have the privilege to look or even _think_ of the other's man hands as 'beautiful' or 'perfect' or 'delicate' (even though the latter was a fact, not an opinion). "She is very talented. But she says she doesn't have enough patience to be a 'proper genius'. Her own words."

There was a pause. A few deep breaths mingled together, before one of them spoke up again.

"If she looks anything like you," Magnus said softly, "She must create an exceptionally beautiful picture with her harp."

Alec froze. Did Magnus just call _him_ beautiful? Or did he express his interest in Alec's s_ister? _Alec awkwardly cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. We are very much alike in appearance, but our characters are different. She is more… confident."

Magnus' eyelids were half-closed, his voice a gentle murmur. "Mhm, I can imagine that." He was now sitting deep in his armchair, sunk into it, as though the piece of furniture was too overwhelming. His head was leaning heavily on the backrest, his chin pointing up at the ceiling. "But _you_ are patient," he continued, "And it's a virtue, too."

Alec was surprised that Magnus was actually listening to him. He felt like he was babbling mostly to himself, a one-sided need to fill the silence. But it turned out that Alec's words were not only a perfect distraction from the bad news, but also an interesting and pleasant story. He decided to continue, it seemed like his 'babbling' was having a relaxing effect on Magnus. "I also have a brother, Jace. I mean, Jonathan. He's a year younger than me. Very compulsive, sarcastic," Alec recited. "Sometimes rude," he added as an afterthought, smiling fondly. "So maybe you're right, I think you could say I'm the patient one. We are very close, all fo-three of us." He swallowed. No, no, _no, _that wasn't the direction Alec wanted this conversation to go. With his breath held, he waited for Magnus to notice the slip of his tongue.

But Magnus didn't say anything. A silence hung in the air. Alec risked a glance at the other man: there was no danger, Magnus was not looking in his direction. His head was turned, Alec could only see one side of his face, his jawline, the line of his cheek, the strained tendon in his neck.

"What about you?" Alec asked quietly. "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Magnus?"

"You know," Magnus started and Alec was startled by such a quick response – he almost thought that Magnus was asleep; his chest was rising and falling in calm, even breaths, "not long ago, somebody said one thing. Or maybe I read it somewhere…? That some people are like clavichords, they play in solitude, and others are like harpsichords, they are a part of a concerto, they belong with other instruments." He turned his head and looked at Alec, raw _pleading_ in his eyes. What was he begging for? Understanding? For Alec not to delve into it more?

So Alec decided to let it go, for now. He wasn't by any means going to give up, but it was not like Magnus was obligated to give him some information in return for Alec's pathetic sharing. If Magnus needed space and time to stop speaking in metaphors, Alec could _try _to give him that. He was 'the patient one' after all.

* * *

They didn't get much work done that day. In fact, they didn't even start. Magnus was in a foul mood for the rest of their time together even though he tried to hide it, but Alec wasn't that _blind. _Or cruel. He decided to leave before luncheon and quite accidentally it was then when Magnus finally started to cheer up. (And _oh, that stung._)

He saw Alec to the door and they stood at the entrance. Magnus was observing Alec's every move with his cat-like eyes, all in silence. Finally, Alec put on his top hat, bowed slightly and turned on his heel to leave.

"I know what I am going to do," Magnus announced when Alec jumped down the few steps.

He twirled around and saw Magnus leaning against the doorframe and it was as if every wan stray sunray decided to focus on his person. Alec huffed, it was just unfair. Magnus was bright on his own, he didn't need help.

"I need to buy a new clavichord," Magnus continued and Alec let him, because where was it all going exactly? "But I want one created especially for me. I'm going to hire an artisan and he's going to come here and work for me."

Alec pondered for a moment. Why did Magnus insist so much on _being _the clavichord? Then again, the process of building a new instrument would take a good few months. Was it Magnus' way of showing his willingness? Was he giving Alec a chance? – no, it wasn't about him, it was about Magnus letting somebody new into his life, learning to trust.

A selfish thought crept into Alec's mind and made itself comfortable in the back his head: maybe _he_ was the reason Magnus wanted to try and open himself. Perhaps Magnus _chose_ to place confidence in_ him_, because Magnus thought him special.

* * *

*** The words Magnus says about people, clavichords and harpsichords are the actual words of Jean Paul. I wanted Magnus to play some instrument in this and a clavichord seemed like a good option. Plus, it was popular back then. **

**Part 2 of this chapter coming soon. Thanks for reading! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**As promised, the second part (also known as "chapter 5" :D:D) for you, sunshines. **

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe, my beautiful friend *heart* (Check out her stories if you haven't already, she's brilliant!)**

* * *

The following day, Alec couldn't stop thinking about Magnus. About Magnus' words, the heaviness of his gaze every time it landed on Alec, his radiance, his _hands… _He did not know what to make of it. What if someone had the ability to read his mind? – he should feel ashamed. There was something in his thoughts that Isabelle would have called 'deliciously improper'. He felt bad about it, because firstly: he swore to himself that he would give Magnus the needed space, and therefore secondly: even though Magnus obviously wasn't aware of what was happening in Alec's head, Alec still felt like he was infringing on Magnus' privacy. He should block those thoughts (better, he should want to _erase _them completely), and that was what he had been trying to do the whole morning.

Obviously, what he had been telling himself this whole time was an entirely different thing. He claimed that the sudden urge to lock himself in his office was born out of a sense of duty. It was not, by any means, an attempt to take his mind off mysterious men with cat-like eyes and caramel-coloured skin. Absolutely not.

He had obligations, commitments, duties. _Quit acting like an abom- __a child, Alexander._

He skipped breakfast and asked only for a coffee. It was delivered to his office by Simon; a silver tray, a porcelain pot and a matching cup. The valet reached to pour some coffee into the cup, but Alec stopped him with a gesture. He wanted to be alone, quickly. Simon turned and before he left, Alec saw an almost offended expression crossing the boy's face, as if he was afraid that his master didn't need him anymore. Alec sighed.

He started working on the first letter – something about finances – waiting for Hodge to appear. Indeed, the manager stepped into his office a few minutes later.

"Good morning, Hodge," Alec asked, trying to sound cheery. "What have you got for me today?"

Hodge came up closer to the heir's desk, but didn't sit down. Alec always felt ridiculously out of place settled behind that enormous oaken piece of furniture, partly because it didn't even belong to him. It used to be his father's, and when Lord Lightwood had decided that it was time for his son to have his own office, he'd simply passed the desk to Alec- and bought himself a new one (probably thinking of his gesture as a sacrifice and a great symbol). The whole room was a bit overwhelming, the atmosphere was always so official. Alec didn't like the distance: the desk created a glaring barrier between him and the attendants. But the rules had to be obeyed. The line was a representation of a real life, where he wasn't equal with common people.

And now Hodge was standing in front of him in an obeisance, and Alec felt like a king who graciously granted him the audience. But he was no king and he didn't wish to be.

The old man spoke up, "I hired some people on your behalf, my lord. The workers for the leaking roof. We spoke about it quite recently, if you recall?"

"Of course," Alec nodded. "When are they going to be here?"

"Tomorrow, my lord. Everything has been arranged already. I will take care of it."

"Thank you, Hodge. Is there anything else?"

"Ah yes, my lord. The cook that you asked me to look for." Alec perked up at that. _Good job on avoiding thinking about Magnus._ Hodge continued, "I went to the village, wrote a few letters. I think I found one suitable woman." He hesitated, but Alec told him with a gesture of his hand to go on. "She is unmarried, she doesn't have any other commitments. She could start her job right away. But, my lord," another pause, "forgive my arrogance, but do we really need another cook? I thought the one we have is competent enough. Has something happened?"

Alec chuckled. "Oh no, Miss P's cooking is as delightful as ever. I'm just helping our new neighbour." Hodge's expression turned into an understanding one. "I offered to find him a cook; he seems rather…" Alec smiled faintly to his own thoughts, and any observer, including Hodge, would describe that smile as _affectionate_, "…_lost. _He isn't from here, he-" Alec frowned. He realized he still didn't know where Magnus was from. "Anyway, the lady will be working for him. Maybe it's for the better that she doesn't know it yet, Mag-Mister Bane can be quite intimidating." Another secretive smile. "You can send for her, and thank you for your efforts."

"Yes, my lord." Hodge bowed, but somehow he managed to keep his scrutinizing gaze on the heir. "If that's all, I'll return to my other duties. Would you like me to send Amatis in?"

Alec nodded with a sigh, and Hodge was dismissed.

Few minutes later, a pale tall woman came into his office. It was Amatis, Lady Lightwood's maid. Since the accident, she had spent every minute with Maryse in her bedroom, taking care of her, keeping her company. She was severe and rough in her manners - to everyone except her Lady. Always with a tight bun on the top of her head, careful not to let any stray bangs hang around her angular face. Always wearing dull brown and grey dresses, with her back straight and hands firmly clasped in front of her. But above all, she was loyal and devoted to her Lady, and she never forgot that Maryse's condition remained a case unknown in the society. They intended to keep it a secret as long as possible and Amatis had never let her tongue slip so far.

"Lord Lightwood," she said with a sharp nod.

Alec cleared his throat. "Amatis. And I'm not a lord."

"Well, I'm not seeing her ladyship's husband anywhere." She looked around the office in a theatrical gesture. "That makes you the lord." She pinned Alec with her gaze, making her point. Amatis blamed Robert for Maryse's condition. She didn't have any respect left for him after he practically abandoned his family and even though almost every person in the Lightwood household thought the same, she was the only one who had the courage to say it aloud.

"How is my mother?" Alec asked, ignoring Amatis' performance. Even if he did have the courage, he didn't have the right. He was the firstborn son, and loyalty towards his father was his _damn_ duty.

Amatis face softened, if only a little bit. "Your mother is well, my lord." Her pale blue eyes filled with pity, and Alec was immediately taken aback.

"Is she getting better?"

"That's the thing, my lord. _She is well. _She talks normally, she eats, she sleeps without nightmares. She wishes to wear dresses with more colour again." Amatis looked at him closely, a wry half-smile on her face, "She despises you for spying on her. She knows I give you reports almost every morning. But I know that you are doing it out of care and that you are kind, my lord, therefore I always tell you the truth."

Alec gaped at her. He was impossibly relieved that Maryse was well again, but there was also _hurt. _Oh, he was not surprised that his mother had nothing but contempt for him. He was used to it; and after the accident he was drowning in this feeling mingled with her silent hatred, but… he was not her only child left. There were others worried sick about her. If she had recovered, why didn't she think about joining them downstairs?

He asked exactly that, but Amatis shook her head. "I don't know, my lord. I think that maybe you should try and talk to her." Alec winced. "She needs patience. I think that patience and time were the things that cured her."

"And you, Amatis." Alec smiled weakly. "You helped to cure her, too. Are you going to stay?"

"I was here long before the accident, I'm not going to leave now. And don't lose your spirit, little lord. It's good news."

Alec almost laughed: a short, choked sound escaping his throat. "You're probably right." _I just miss my mother. _"Thank you, Amatis, that would be all." _Quit acting like a child._ "You can pass her ladyship another report now."

Amatis nearly chuckled. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously close to, "Lightwoods!" shrugged and then left the room.

As soon as the door closed after her, Alec slumped low in his chair. He ruffled his hair, frustrated and desperate. He would think on Amatis' suggestion, but later. Was he going to tell his siblings about the change in their mother's condition? He didn't know. Instead, he buried himself in his work. Hours passed, and he was still scribbling letters, the sound of his pen against rough paper scratching and soothing; he was immersed in paperwork, finances, requests for money and support, reports, lists of inventory – and finally, his mind was blank. Paradoxically, his brain was both filled with numbers and letters and at the same time, it was empty. Yet somehow, he wasn't grateful for that. He wanted to think freely about things - people, about _one person _- that interested him, things he found fascinating, without feeling obligated to erase them from his mind. Besides, it wasn't fair or professional of him to think about his work as distraction. God, he was a poor example of an heir.

He emerged from his office in the late afternoon, when the sky was in pinks, reds and oranges; long shadows were cast across his desk. He'd missed luncheon and tea, and now his stomach rumbled in protest. He pondered on grabbing something from the kitchen, when suddenly Simon approached him.

"My lord! You gave the impression that you didn't want to be interrupted, so I didn't inform you immediately. But a green-faced man came earlier, and he left you a note." Simon stuck out his hand, with a small piece of paper between his fingers. He added conspiratorially, "The man looked rather gloomy. Annoyed, even."

Alec chuckled, guessing that the green-faced man the valet was talking about was Ragnor. "Yes, he does that a lot." He took the small card from Simon and waited until the boy left. Then he unfolded the paper. The note was short, and yet so meaningful that Alec's fingers trembled. It read:

_Would you like to come by in the evening? Dinner?_

_M.B._

The corners of Alec's lips raised and he had no control over his face muscles. It had been less than twenty four hours since they had seen each other, yet Magnus was eager to see him _now. _Did he interpret Alec's absence this morning as resentment? Was this invitation a form of apology for his behaviour? God, he had no idea, he had nothing to apologize for.

Had Magnus been struggling with similar thoughts all that time? (Oh yes, because Alec failed at erasing Magnus from his mind after all). His smile grew wider. Suddenly, all this seemed beautifully laughable. What was he worrying about? Why was he worrying in a first place? _They_ _were_ _friends_. He had every right to worry about his mother, about his heritage, but Magnus…? He was not one of his problems – he was the one who could help Alec with them.

Alec pocketed the note, went - or more like _ran_ - to the kitchen to grab two green apples (the kitchen maids made an incredible fuss, because: "Master Alec, what are you doing here?!" and he just laughed), then whistled Church over. The dog was at his side in two seconds and together they went to Magnus'.

* * *

This time it was Magnus who opened the door – Ragnor was nowhere to be seen. It seemed like another eccentric tradition of Idris House, and for a second Alec wondered what would people think if he was to start opening the door of his own house with his own hands. Their faces in his imagination were just priceless.

"Oh, hello," Magnus greeted him, mildly surprised. He was in his evening attire, if only a little ruffled; the cuffs unbuttoned, his collar opened, his hair hanging loose without a touch of brilliantine.

Alec smiled at the sight. "Put on your coat, we're going for a walk," he announced, a silly laugh bubbling up in his chest.

"What about dinner?"

Alec shrugged. "I just feel like walking for a little bit, so these would have to do." He pushed the two apples in front of himself, his gesture offering. "And something tells me you've been locked up in this building since you got here. It's depressing! Come on, the walk will be good for you."

Magnus nodded and turned around to retrieve his coat without further protest. Alec yelled after him, "And take Chairman Meow with you!"

He returned a few seconds later, his dog yapping around his legs. Church, dignified as ever, came up to Chairman and sniffed at him. The smaller dog licked his nose, and Church retreated, greatly offended.

Magnus laughed at the scene. Together they set off to the moors. It was getting dark, the sky now navy blue with smears of dark pink. Magnus looked around and then suddenly stopped. "Oh my god!" he gasped, "It's after nightfall; and we don't have a chaperone!" He put his palm against his heart in a dramatic gesture. "You, mister Lightwood, are not a gentleman."

Alec, too, stopped and gaped at Magnus, his eyes impossibly wide. Was Magnus being serious? How could he- why would he say such thing?

But then Magnus burst out laughing. He choked out, "You should have seen your face!" bending in half and having trouble catching his breath.

Alec chuckled nervously, the back of his neck and the tip of his ears turning pink. It was a joke, _of course. _To cover his embarrassment, quite clumsily, he threw one of the apples in the general direction of Magnus' head. But the other man surprised him by catching the fruit with ease, and then biting into it with enthusiasm and the delicious sound of teeth sinking into juicy pulp. He smiled at Alec around a mouthful of the apple, a shiny trickle of juice running down his chin.

Alec gulped with effort and Magnus mirrored the movement. The tension was unbelievable, so Alec just turned around and started walking again. A few steps ahead of them, Church resumed his walk as well, having stopped looking at his master with his curious eyes.

Magnus followed Alec without another word, finishing his apple. He must have misread the silence, because his next words were apologetic, "I'm sorry about my behaviour yesterday. I was rude, I should have more self-control." He looked at Alec with those green-gold eyes of his and Alec quickly shook his head.

"No, no, no." So Magnus really was worried that Alec was angry with him. God, they had some serious problems with communication. "Don't speak about it again, there was nothing wrong with your manners." He smiled reassuringly.

Magnus was not convinced. "But I _want _to speak about it. I want to give you something in return, as a 'thank you' for your honesty and your patience, I want to _share._"

"Oh no," Alec stopped him, "Don't do it. You are not in my debt. You don't owe me anything. I can wait. I will wait. You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want. Or you don't have to tell me anything at all, ever." He knew he was rambling, but it was such strange conversation, at such a strange time.

Magnus went quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed, as if he was thinking about something with great intensity. When Alec decided it was safe to look away, Magnus spoke up and his head snapped back in place.

"You are probably wondering where I am from…"

"Magnus…"

Magnus tilted his head, looking at the sky and avoiding Alec's gaze. "But I'm not from anywhere, not really."

"How is that possible?" Alec blurted out before he could stop himself. Yes, he had told Magnus he didn't have to tell him anything, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious, or interested. Truth be told, he was dying to know something, but he wasn't going to push. Too much.

Magnus visibly stiffened at his prodding. _Well done, Alexander, damn you and your idiocy. _He let out a shaky breath and went on, "I've been travelling since I was a child. I didn't quite… have a choice. I've never had a home, but I didn't want to, not really. Home means attachment, and I couldn't afford such luxury." There was something delirious in his eyes, extreme calm slowly getting pushed aside by panic – or maybe it was the other way around? Maybe the frantic: _Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't do it, _were gently getting soothed by a strange feeling of serenity. Magnus smiled sadly, "But when I turned eighteen, something changed. For once, I was by myself, with only Ragnor as my magician. I've started looking for something. I was even banned from Peru; I was looking with such fury in my heart."

Alec's eyes never left Magnus, but now he looked at him even closer. Magnus couldn't be older than twenty-one, but he spoke with such wisdom, with terrible _nostalgia _in his words, as if he had lived eight hundred years and had seen everything, and there was absolutely nothing left for him to experience or _want. _

But then their eyes met, and Magnus' eyes brightened. "But you know, I'm here now, and I'm starting to think I finally found something. Home? Maybe. Possibly." He suddenly looked around, as if he was distracted by the beauty of the moors at night, the pinks and whites and light browns glowing lightly in the moonlight. Magnus continued, his eyes still smoothing over the horizon, "I like it here. It's peaceful. _So different_," the last two words were spoken with a sigh. Then, all of sudden, he turned his head and looked straight into Alec's eyes, devouring the very core of his soul. A single word left his mouth, a whisper: "Beautiful."

All air left Alec's lungs at once. He felt dizzy with want to touch Magnus – to comfort him? No, it wasn't needed anymore, because Magnus '_finally found something'. _He resisted the urge to put his palm on Magnus' shoulder, or to circle his fingers around his thin wrist, or to run his fingertip across his forearm; just a ghost of his fingers against the body next to his, clothed or not. Why would he want it to be naked? What were those thoughts? He shook his head, breaking the eye-contact.

Magnus laughed breathlessly. "Well, that was refreshing. Though I'm sorry you had to listen to my whining."

Alec darted in front of Magnus, a parody of limbs and frantic movements, and stopped him where he stood. "Are you joking? If you are, stop it for a moment." He held up his hand and blurted out, "Thank you for telling me. I'm very grateful."

Magnus' eyebrows raised on his forehead as his smiled, amused _and_ amazed. "Alright."

And just like that, they started walking again. Magnus looked back once, to check where Chairman Meow was, because the dog was clearly having trouble to keep up with their pace on his too short legs. He was not very far away though, and seemed to like the surroundings, just like his master. Soon they turned back home, both quiet. The silence, for once, wasn't uncomfortable. Their shoulders brushed against each other from time to time and although Alec knew their closeness on the open-never-ending-vast space was not necessary, he breathed a sigh of relief every time it happened. If Magnus let him do that, it meant it was allowed. It was just a friendly touch. When they were parting ways, they agreed to meet next day, without reluctance or hesitation or uncertainty. And Alec thought he understood now: Magnus didn't need to stop being a clavichord for _him, _Alec was just going to be the one who would listen to his quiet, sweet solitary concerto.

* * *

**Oh, sweet, innocent Alec... ;)**

**Thank you for reading! And thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews, it all means so much to me :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for the long wait :c I hope that you can forgive me - the next chapter will be up sooner, promise! **

**(I'll just mention, when I was writing the beginning of this chapter, I had _Northern Lights_ by Cider Sky stuck in my head. Don't know why, but anyway, the first paragraph of this chapter is one big paraphrase of the first verse of this song :D)**

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe. She's fantastic. And I love her :3 **

**Thanks for reading! You're all awesome.**

* * *

On his way to Magnus' the next day, everything seemed so much brighter to Alec. If he closed his eyes – and he did, for a second, without thinking _'Why on earth would you do that, Alexander?'_, maybe because he wanted to – every image would _burn _in the back of his eyelids. Not in a fierce, angry red flame; but in a gentle, yellow warmth. He felt like he could touch the colours around him.

It had rained earlier that day, but now the sky was clear with a rainbow shooting through the blue surface. Alec met two butterflies on his way, circling around each other in a complicated and beautiful dance. Their wings were fragile and transparent, and every thin vein could be seen against the weak sunlight. They were fluttering continuously in the barely discernible wind. Alec kept squinting his eyes, trying to guess if their colour was more light yellow or rather celadon green. He gave up after a moment, coming to a conclusion: if those butterflies had souls, even tiny ones, they would be knit together. There was no point in guessing their colour, for they created an union; yellow mingled with green, green mingled with yellow. Alec didn't even stop to ponder over ridiculousness of his thoughts. He just shrugged and kept going, a half-smile gracing his lips after the butterflies disappeared from his view.

He stepped onto the familiar path that led to Magnus' door. The gravel crunched under Alec's boots. There was something cheery in that sound and the spring in Alec's steps. He let the knocker rattle against the door. While he was waiting for someone (probably Magnus, not much hope in Ragnor) to let him in, he stepped back and craned his neck, his eyes scanning the windows above him. Perhaps he was looking for a shadow of Magnus, maybe a flutter of a curtain or a knock in the glass and an enthusiastic wave. Maybe he just wished to admire the façade of the building, he always thought it was beautiful and extraordinary. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone, his eyes roaming through the white surface were filled with blue _innocence. _He smirked to himself. God, it felt good; having no one else in his head but himself.

Finally, the door opened (a terrible, terrible reluctance in the creak of the hinges) and Alec tore his eyes away from the interesting view. Only because there was a promise hidden in the action, somewhere in the back of his head, the promise of a reward: exchanging admiring the 'façade' for admiring _Magnus._

He was met with disappointment. He should have had more faith in the man - Ragnor was standing in front of him, tight grimace on his face, something resembling a smile. Honestly, Alec started to think that Ragnor was doing it on purpose; so far the butler's appearances had always been surprising and - quite irritating. Alec shooed those thoughts away, it was rude of him to think that. Instead, he smiled widely.

"Good morning, Ragnor," he said, unforced joy in his tone. "You ought to do something with those squeaking hinges."

The man frowned. "Yes. I know."

Alec waved his hand. "Oh, don't get mad at me, Ragnor-"

"I wouldn't _dare_."

"-I'm merely trying to be helpful. I could send someone here, if you want? I'm certain that my stableman would be capable of mending it."

"I will take care of it myself," Ragnor said through gritted teeth and then turned around.

It was Alec's cue to follow the man inside. "By yourself, huh?" Alec muttered under his breath, watching the stiffened shoulders in front of him. He mentally whistled, "Truly a magician."

Ragnor swivelled around, his expression stormy. "Excuse me?"

They were almost there, Ragnor apparently was leading the heir to the day room, but Alec couldn't help himself. He was in a fantastic mood today and teasing Ragnor was too much fun. He clamped his hand on his mouth in a theatrical gesture.

Ragnor's frown deepened. "I'm not some kind of 'wizard'," he said, as if he was disgusted with the mere idea.

Despite the sulking expression on the green face, Alec couldn't help but grin. "Oh, I wouldn't _dare_ to even think that, my dear Ragnor."

The man narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Alec realized they were standing at the right door, but Ragnor had something more to add, "I don't know what sort of silly things mister Magnus told you about me, but they are _not true._"

Alec burst out laughing. Magnus and Ragnor were too perfect for each other. The man opened the door with an offended expression and left without announcing Alec's presence. Alec stumbled into the room, still laughing, his eyes watering, his ribs hurting from the force of this attack of merriment.

"What's so funny?" a voice spoke up; velvety, familiar and obviously amused.

Alec immediately sobered up. He wiped the tears from his eyes, discreetly looking around the room for the source of the voice. He choked out, "Nothing. Ragnor."

"Ragnor?" Magnus snorted and Alec finally spotted him. There he was, sitting crossed-legged on the floor, ignoring the armchairs around him (that seemed like a habit of his), surrounded by papers, sketches and pencils. The white of pages reflected the sunlight, creating a bright, blinding spot for Magnus to sit in, the man basking in his own glittering charm. There was a wide smile on his face as he said, "Ragnor is everything but funny." Alec just shrugged, mirroring Magnus' expression only half-consciously. Magnus shook his head. "My, my, you are a wonder, Alexander."

Alec's cheeks coloured pink at those words. He came up to Magnus and stood behind him, the position giving him a comfortable angle to look over Magnus' shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Magnus turned his head a little bit. Even though Alec knew it was impossible in their current position, he was _afraid _that Magnus' hair would brush against his chin and he would react by doing something completely foolish. Like sniff at the crown of Magnus' head. And that would be disastrously embarrassing. Magnus answered, "_We a_re starting to work on our designs. Here, sit beside me." He swept aside some of the papers, making a room for Alec very close to his knee.

Alec hesitated. He swallowed and sat down next to Magnus. The other man didn't seem to notice anything odd in Alec's behaviour. He started arranging the papers around them, exposing them so Alec didn't have to lean against his side to see them. He picked one thin page and showed it to Alec. "I've already sketched out a chest of drawers and I have an idea for a night table. Those will be placed in my bedroom."

Indeed, there was a beautiful piece of furniture drawn on the page. Magnus obviously had some talent. But Alec was hung on Magnus' words, specifically the two of them: 'my bedroom'. It was difficult for him to focus his eyes on the drawing when his brain suddenly felt so fuzzy. He felt a pang of regret that Magnus hadn't given him a tour around his house, that he hadn't had the occasion to peek inside the master's bedroom, even if only from a threshold. The sudden _need _struck Alec: to see the way the sunlight danced against the sheets on Magnus' bed, to see how the thin white curtains moved with the wind, to see how the light of a candle flickered across Magnus' close eyelids… Alec swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and shook his head, trying to chase away the fog from his thoughts.

Magnus looked at him funny. "What? You don't like it? Is it horrible?"

A squeak left Alec's mouth, "What?"

"You were shaking your head in a pretty aggressive manner. It means 'no', I'm fairly certain."

"No!" Alec yelled. "I mean, it's really good. I like it." He took the picture from Magnus' hands and examined it closer.

Meanwhile, Magnus started working on another design. He took a pencil in his hand and lines began to appear from under its tip. Alec put the page aside and observed Magnus. The way his hand moved with grace, the way his shoulders were slouched, the way the tip of his tongue was peeking from between his lips, signalling extreme concentration. He smiled fondly when Magnus winced, clearly not satisfied with some crooked line. Alec passed him a eraser in the same moment Magnus looked up to reach for it.

"Oh." Magnus stared dumbly at this hand. "Thank you." There was a flicker of confusion on his face, something Alec didn't recognize, and then he was back to drawing.

Alec entertained himself with watching Magnus or doodling on empty pages. From time to time Magnus would ask him about his opinion; he would lean back, allowing Alec to look, but he wouldn't move the page closer to him. Sometimes Alec's elbow would land on Magnus' knee, when it was particularly difficult to discern some detail and he had to look closer. He liked most of Magnus' ideas, but some of them were too much: like gold-plated handles or neon pink patterns. He would point it out to Magnus, and the man would nod, pat Alec's head and call him in a murmur, '_My voice of reason'._

Soon, Alec's bottom was sore and his legs were falling asleep, so he changed his position. He spread his legs in front of him, his knees popping loudly, a soft sigh escaping his mouth. He thought he noticed Magnus peeking at him from the corner of his eye, maybe a change in his breathing; faster, more frantic. He chose to ignore it, instead he leaned back on his hands, exposing himself to the warmth of sunlight, which was now falling into the room through the enormous windows. And there it was, the thumping noise again, and for a moment Alec even thought it could be Magnus' heart, but then it became louder and less frequent.

"What's that noise?" Alec finally asked.

Magnus threw aside his pencil. "Oh, it's the artisan. I set him up upstairs, let him convert one of the rooms into his atelier." He cracked his knuckles and then stretched his arms above his head.

Alec turned his head to look the other way when a satisfied moan left Magnus' mouth. "You found one? So fast?"

"Mhm, I was sort of desperate. He will be living here and won't leave this house until he's finished. I promised I'd provide him with every tool or material he would need. He agreed on the terms."

"And how long will it take?"

Magnus shrugged. "A few months." He slipped across the floor and lay down, his head near Alec's knee. He arched his back so only his shoulder blades were touching the floor and Alec thought about a kitten rubbing himself against something extremely pleasant. "Ah. I remembered." Magnus looked up at him, the corners of his lips twitching. "Next time please give me a warning before you send a frightened young woman here."

Alec leaned on his elbows to get a better look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The cook. She came here yesterday afternoon, all trembling lips and scared to death." Alec chuckled and Magnus continued, "This is not funny, my lord, can you imagine it? She was sent to an unfamiliar house, to a complete stranger who is so insane he hasn't been to the village once, and who doesn't ever pay return visits. Mostly because he hasn't received any visits in a first place." Magnus snorted, "It's terrifying!"

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you and _her._"

"Of course you should. But we managed to calm her after all. She may not even see me as a monster anymore."

At that, Alec lightly hit Magnus' shoulder. He said, softer than he intended, "You are no monster."

"Why, thank you," Magnus gasped, "I'm certainly glad you think that." And then he was standing up, quick and graceful as a panther. "Her cooking is enjoyable. Come, it's almost time for lunch."

He held his hand out for Alec to take. It was Alec's decision to lace their fingers together. He got up from the hard floor and together they manoeuvred between the scattered pages, tiptoeing so they wouldn't step on any stray pencils.

Magnus didn't let go of Alec's hand until they were out in the corridor. His palm was warm against Alec's skin, and without it Alec immediately felt cold. But at the same time, he was finally able to breathe again, the skin-on-skin contact being too much for him, and in a twisted way he was grateful that Magnus had taken his warmth with himself. Alec simply did not know how much longer he would be able to last without the air in his lungs.

He was so caught up in his stumbling thoughts (_what exactly did the tingling feeling in his fingertips mean?_) that at first he didn't notice where Magnus was leading him. And then they were stepping through the glass door and onto the terrace. It was a stone surface, with a table and chairs set up a little bit to the right. The furniture was simple, iron, almost austere, but the impression was softened by a white lace tablecloth and a small vessel with flowers in it.

Alec smiled when Magnus told him to sit down. Then he vanished into the house to inform the cook and Ragnor that they were going to have their lunch outside.

Alec used the opportunity to look around himself. Not far from where he was seated, there were a few steps leading into the garden. The greenery was obviously untended, the grass and trees and bushes left to their own devices for too long. But the garden had potential, and with a little grooming it could become a nice place to walk around. Although, Magnus didn't have a gardener and Alec didn't suppose Ragnor would be keen on taking on another duty (despite begin a magician). He mentally chuckled and Magnus chose that moment to come back. He was carrying a tray with petite sandwiches in one hand, a chocolate cake in the other. He placed the titbits in front of Alec and grinned. Ragnor was not far after him, with another two trays, those ones with fruits and a tea set. He put them down, bowed at Alec and vanished back inside.

"Eat up," Magnus gestured with his chin, while pouring each of them a cup of tea.

Alec scooped up one sandwich on his plate and started nibbling at it. "I feel like I'm using you. I keep eating your food, even though yesterday you didn't even have a cook."

"Oh, shut your mouth." Magnus seated himself in front of Alec, snuggling down in the chair, but he kept wincing at the iron edges digging into his back. "Fanny's cooking is delicious and it would be a terrible shame if it was to be wasted. But I wouldn't be able to eat all these things on my own. Not in a million years. Besides, I have to keep this body lean." He pulled at his shirt like he was going to expose his flat stomach, but (for Alec's sake) the material was tucked safely into his trousers.

"Don't worry, you are not fat," Alec muttered and immediately stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his _(stupid!)_ mouth.

"Oh my, aren't you a real flatterer today," Magnus winked when Alec looked at him with wide eyes.

They ate in silence for a while. Magnus swallowed down a handful of dark grapes and then skipped right into the chocolate cake. He cut a generous piece for himself and then moaned around the first bite.

"_God, _I love chocolate."

His lips were wrapped around a silver fork and it wasn't helping Alec's situation. _Get a grip, Lightwood. What _situation_? What is wrong with you? _

He made an attempt to change the subject, "What is your favourite food?" Magnus opened his mouth (and finally his lips were _unoccupied _but _oh, God, _was that a tip of his pink tongue, licking and cleaning at the corner of his mouth?), but Alec went ahead of him, "And don't say 'chocolate', it doesn't count."

The man pouted. "You are not being fair. Let me think." He tapped his index finger against his chin. "I like curry. Spicy."

"That's… exotic. I've never tried it."

"Well, then I must ensure that you will." They smiled at each other (Alec's breath _stupidly_ hitched every time, at every mention of _more; _of more time spent together, more moments like this. As if he couldn't quite believe Magnus would want him as a his friend.). Then Magnus asked, "What about you? What do you love?"

"Pancakes. Fluffy, golden pancakes." Alec patted his stomach, approvingly.

Magnus chuckled. They ate some more, chatting about their favourites teas, and that they both didn't really like coffee but couldn't imagine life without a cup every early morning.

Suddenly, the thunder rolled in the distance. Earlier, Alec had noticed that the sky was slowly turning navy blue, dark thick clouds gathering in the North. The heavy rain surprised him and Magnus nonetheless. They sprang out of their chairs and their eyes met; bewildered expression on both faces, as if they were caught red-handed, doing something… inappropriate. The drops were cold against their heated cheeks, and suddenly they started laughing. Gripping onto each other, they ran inside the house, their hair already wet, black mingling with black. They stopped once they were in the middle of the corridor, looked at each other and politely took a step back, both of them. Alec cleared his throat and Magnus chuckled.

Another thunder boomed and Magnus spoke up, "Looks like you're staying the night." He tried to hide his grin at Alec's wide-eyed expression.

"What do you mean?" his voice was small.

"I mean that the storm clearly is not going to end anytime soon. And I'm not letting you out of my house in this weather, Alexander." His expression was stern, because Alec, naturally, was going to argue with that.

"It is very kind of you to offer-"

"Except that I'm not _offering._"

"-But I can't possibly accept it. I don't want to burden you, or Ragnor, or Fanny. And my family will worry…"

Magnus took a step closer. Alec backed down against the wall. He looked like a frightened deer. "You will not leave. I forbid it. The moors will be swampy and sticky with mud and you're going to probably sprain your ankle or something." Alec frowned at that, because _he was not a child_, and Magnus actually smirked. "Jesus, I'm kidding, I know you're not _fragile." _He rolled his eyes and continued, "But honestly, it's freezing out there."

Alec's defence was quickly crumpling down. There was an underline in Magnus' words, something raw, and even though he didn't say anything like _'Please, stay'_, there was a plea hidden under the care and worry about his friend.

"I don't have any night clothes to change into," Alec grumbled, last strings of his hesitance.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'll lend you my clothes. One of my beds. You'll have a place at my table. We'll have an actual dinner, you owe me that." He was grinning like a mad man. "You'll keep eating my food, as you've been doing from the very beginning."

He winked as Alec's cheeks flamed red.

"You're impossible," Alec sighed and it was as good as agreeing on staying.

Magnus pumped his fist in the air. "Victory!" he exclaimed. And then he looked at Alec from between his damp, ebony strands. He looked at him with such impossible w_armth, _rich gold swirling through the green in his eyes, that something quivered painfully in Alec's chest.

Alec sighed again, dangerous _excitement _pulsing somewhere inside him, hard to ignore and yet forbidden to acknowledge.

_This, _he thought, _is going to be a long, _long _night._

* * *

**Oh, I'm such a terrible human being for cutting this chapter here... But! Hold your horses! Nothing is going to happen, it's too soon... (Or... maybe... something... will happen after all? *evil smirk*)**

**I have a question for you guys - I was going to ask you anyway, but one of my readers has already mentioned it (and RoseO, your protectiveness of me is really sweet :3 Thanks for all the things you said, I appreciate it) - would you be interested in reading something from Magnus' POV? I can't promise you a whole chapter, but maybe a scene or something? It's really... difficult to write something from his perspective since the mystery surrounding him is rather important... But I can think about it, if you want...? **

**Tell me in a review :) And leave some feedback as well, that'd be great! :) **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: As promised, here's chapter 7 :) It's the longest one so far *pats self approvingly* Hope you enjoy!**

**Beta'ed, of course, by ChaseThisLightWithMe. (Thanks for putting up with me, darling! :3) Also, huge acknowledgments to her brother (:D) who's been very helpful during the hard times of writing this chapter. **

**(Also, as a nice instrumental background, I recommend you to listen to the beautiful composition _"The Heart Asks Pleasure First"_ from the movie _The Piano._ The music was stuck in my head particularly when I was writing the 'library scene'.) **

* * *

It was decided that they would begin with choosing a bedroom for Alec. Together, they started climbing upstairs. The house seemed a lot more gloomier during a storm. The corridors were dark, only some of the candelabras on the walls were lit up. (It was probably due to Ragnor's too many duties and out of simple thriftiness – after all, the halls were empty most of the time).The flames of the candles flickered with every gust of air - even though all the windows were closed, there were still gaps and cracks in the old walls, frames and floors, letting the cold wind inside. When another crack of lightning ripped the sky, followed closely by thunder, Alec felt as if the ground trembled under his feet. Halfway there, he started shivering.

Magnus looked over him. He spoke up, startling Alec, "Lose your tailcoat. Chop-chop!" He clapped encouragingly and Alec's eyes bugged out of his head.

"What? Why?" he asked defensively.

"Because it's _drenched. _Come on, I'm not letting you catch pneumonia." Alec reluctantly took off his tailcoat and handed it to Magnus. The other man folded it over his arm. "Are you going to be alright with only a shirt on? It's not wet too, is it?" He reached with his hand, as if he was going to pat Alec's shoulder to ease his worry, but then another shiver raked through Alec's body, a movement that could be easily interpreted as a recoiled flinch. Magnus stiffened, his smile faltering. "This way," he added, his voice blank. He turned and started walking again.

Alec followed him in silence. Soon, they reached two rows of doors. They were placed on both walls, equal gaps between each one of them, lined up down the corridor. "Guest bedrooms," Magnus explained. Every door was the same: brown wood, polished a long time ago and worn out, but in a dignified manner. Only the door at the end of the corridor was different: two-winged, renovated and cherry coloured. Alec guessed it was the master bedroom.

"Pick one of them," Magnus prompted him. "They all look the same, though."

Alec didn't want to reveal himself as _desperate _by choosing the door the closest to Magnus' bedroom. But the _need_ from before, when he'd been thinking about Magnus giving him a tour and letting him inside his bedroom, reappeared deep inside him. It snuck up on him, crushing his lungs in its two tiny, phantom fists. He hid his gasp by pressing his face against his own shoulder. He carefully picked the door that seemed to be a reasonable distance from Magnus', not entirely at the other end, but not too close.

The room inside was furnished rather simply. There was a bed - and Alec supposed that was what really mattered; a night table, a cupboard with a basin on its top, a fireplace. The curtains that were drawn over the windows were heavy and probably dusty, in the colour of red wine. The room was plunged into a navy gleam of the weather outside: the clouds and howling wind and shaking tree branches. Until Magnus lit up a dozen of candles and placed them near the bed and onto the cupboard.

Alec perched on the edge of the mattress. He fiddled with his cuffs, buttoning and unbuttoning them, clicking the cufflinks together. Magnus looked over him in silence, the shadows and glows dancing over his features. He saw a figure slouched over itself, still shaking slightly, its hair sticking in odd angles.

"Alright. I have a better idea," Magnus announced. Alec straightened up, blinking somewhat sleepily. The weather had that effect on him. "Would you like to take a bath now, maybe? No offence, but you look a little bit… miserable, at the moment."

To be honest, Alec had indeed thought about a bath, hot water washing over his body in pleasant waves. But of course, he hadn't wanted to cause trouble, so he hadn't asked.

Magnus looked sceptical, like he _knew _Alec was going to decline. But Alec smiled. "Yes, I would like that. Thank you. And apologize to Ragnor on my behalf."

Magnus snorted. "Oh, certainly." He stepped closer to the door, preparing to leave. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll send Ragnor with hot water and towels. And I'll leave you some clothes on the bed." Alec nodded along, grateful. "Actually, I have to write some letters now. So take your time, relax," Magnus smiled. "Meet me in a library, will you? It's connected directly to the day room, you won't have any problems finding it."

"Alright, I will." Alec shuffled awkwardly on the bed. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Magnus was already out of the door when he threw over his shoulder, "Oh, Alexander. It's only the beginning." Alec could practically feel a smirk in his words.

He smiled softly to himself after the door closed. He let his fingers run absentmindedly over the sheets on his bed, the material stiff and rough from starching. The room, without Magnus' presence, seemed colder, the flames flickering wildly, as if they were alarmed, reaching towards something - someone - that had already disappeared.

Soon, he heard the door next to his open and close repeatedly. He guessed it was Ragnor, filling the bath with hot water. The bathroom must have been connected to his room - and indeed, there was a narrow door on his left that he hadn't noticed earlier, and it probably led directly to the bathroom. He didn't have to wait long for his predictions to come true: there was a knock at that door and then Ragnor was standing on the threshold.

"The bath is ready, sir." He was ruffled, panting slightly. There was sweat polling at his temples, but his posture was very official. Two fluffy towels were draped over one of his arms.

Alec stood up. "Thank you, Ragnor."

"Will you be needing my assistance?"

"No, it won't be necessary." Alec took the towels from Ragnor's hands and the man bowed before leaving.

Alec looked around the bathroom. It was a small room, and it contained only a porcelain bath on brass lion feet. The floor was tiled and already slippery, probably from all the steam.

Alec quickly discarded his clothes and put them neatly in a pile on the floor. He went into the hot water, hissing at the first contact and sunk down so only his head was above the surface. A content sigh escaped his lips when he spread his arms over the edges of the tub, making himself as comfortable as possible. His eyes closed for what felt like a moment. But when he opened them again, the water was already getting clod and his fingertips and toes were wrinkled.

He got up and stepped out of the bath, careful not to slip on the tiles. He dried himself with one impossibly soft towel, and the second one he threw over his head. Naked, and with a ridiculous fluff on top, he returned to 'his' bedroom. There was an unfamiliar pile of clothes on the bed, and it wasn't hard to guess that Magnus had left them there, and they were his. Suddenly, Alec was extremely aware that he didn't close the bathroom door when he went to take his bath, and even though it was impossible to see anything from the angle where Magnus must have stood, Alec still blushed furiously. For a one moment, there was nothing between his naked form and Magnus' _potential _scrutinizing, piercing gaze. To get rid of those absolutely ridiculous thoughts (_for God's sake, he was still naked, standing in the middle of a cold room, and despite all that, there was _heat _crawling over his body, and a prickling sensation low in his abdomen and he didn't know how to interpret it and it was _frightening), he started rummaging through the clothes. There was everything he needed except underwear (oh yes, because that would be a_wkward_), so Alec decided to wear his own trousers (they weren't wet) without nothing underneath them. A gasp escaped his lips when the material rubbed against his naked flesh, and he resisted the impulse to clamp his palm against his mouth, and block those _goddamned _sounds. To add to his misery, the warm sensation from before didn't disappear: it had settled comfortably low in his stomach and didn't even think about leaving. Alec rubbed a hand across the side of his face in frustration.

He picked the linen undershirt Magnus had left for him, and then the outer shirt. Sliding his arms into the sleeves, he let an appreciative inhale. He was _not _(_absolutely not!_) disappointed when he didn't smell anything but the sharp scent of cleaning products and soap. The light blue waistcoat actually fitted him, hugging his middle in all the right places. He decided to ignored the tailcoat, wincing at a mere thought of having to put on another layer of clothing. He felt like if he did that, he would suffocate. Besides, it was a terrible pale orange colour. Alec might have suspected it had to do something with Magnus' _marvellous_ sense of humour.

The whole process – taking a bath, unclothing and clothing himself – had been done with as little thinking as possible. Alec felt like he had shut down his brain for a while. When some thoughts did slip into his mind, sneaky little creatures, they didn't make sense. They were _red, _springing and racing and completely inappropriate. Impossible. _Foolish_. Alec had to learn how to control them.

As a final touch, he raked his fingers though his damp hair, letting it dry by itself. He decided he was ready. He was almost out of the room, when, in a rush of spontaneity, he grabbed two blankets off his bed. One of them, he wrapped around himself like a cape. He must have looked like a little child, but at least he was _warm_. The second one, he squeezed to his chest, thinking about Magnus, who was sitting alone in the library.

He came downstairs and found the library without difficulty - just like Magnus had promised. The room was decidedly less impressive than the Institute's library, and also much more cluttered and less organized. There were tall bookshelves filled with books, but placed in what seemed like a random pattern. They created something resembling a labyrinth, and through them Alec couldn't yet discern Magnus. He walked around them, in his protective cape, letting his fingertips graze against the spines of the books. His hands quickly got dusty and he huffed at them, trying to erase the dirt. He took another turn and came out on what seemed like a clearing in the middle of an enchanted forest. There was a big desk, standing directly in front of three massive windows. The chair – Magnus' chair – had its back turned on Alec, and he could see the tip of Magnus' head peeking over it. The sun must have come out from behind the clouds in that moment, or else it couldn't be possible that Magnus was _glowing. _Because, when Alec walked around to see the other man's face, there was a halo of yellow light over his head and shoulders. Magnus was writing something, his eyes glued to the paper, so Alec was free to gape.

"Um, hello," he finally stammered out. He tightened his grip on the corners of his blanket. He added, "Please, forgive my state of… clothing."

At the hesitation in Alec's words, Magnus looked up and their eyes locked. Apparently, it was his turn to gape, his mouth might have even fallen open a little bit. "What are you?" Magnus whispered.

Alec chuckled nervously. "Hah, first time we met, you thought I was an apparition. Remember?" _And I thought you were a fairy prince. _

"I still wonder sometimes."

They hadn't broken the eye-contact yet; Magnus' eyes almost unblinking on Alec's flushed face. Alec fought the urge to squirm in his place. Instead, he thrust his arms forward, the second blanket folded in them. "Here, I thought you might need this."

Magnus moved aside his papers and pens, and draped the blanket over his legs. "Thank you," he smiled, "That's very considerate."

But the library wasn't that cold. Maybe the shy sun, peeking from time to time between the gaps in the clouds was enough to warm the room. It was still raining, but it seemed that the worst of the storm had ended. The sunlight, when it appeared, landed directly onto Magnus' desk and the floor around it. Alec could practically feel the wood here was warmer under his feet than where he entered the room.

"Are you feeling better now?" Magnus snapped closed his train of thoughts and Alec was grateful, because he could see his palm lowering itself and getting closer and closer to touch the wooden floor and he couldn't stop it. Like it wasn't even his limb, like it belonged to someone else. _Someone with a fascination and curiosity and _love _towards inanimate objects, believing they have tiny, little souls. _That someone was not the Lightwood heir.

He focused on delivering the answer to Magnus. "Yes, much better, thank you." He snuggled deeper into his blanket. "I'm warmer now. The shivers have stopped."

Magnus nodded, smiling. Then his face turned serious again. "I have to finished this letter." He tapped one of the pages with his finger. "It won't take long, but it needs to be done. I'm such a terrible host, forgive me."

"Are you joking? I never know when you are. You're not a terrible a_nything, _don't bother with me." Magnus opened his mouth to say something, but Alec added in a gentle tone, "I'm not saying that I'm an unwanted guest. Only an unexpected one. I understand that you have work to do. I don't mind."

Magnus sighed and murmured something under his breath, something close to, "Always the patient one." Then he added louder, "Feel free to pick any book you want. If you wish to kill time by reading, that is."

He picked up his pen and Alec wandered towards the closest bookshelf. His eyes landed on a small volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. He quite liked them, but sometimes - and he wouldn't admit it readily - they made him flush. He understood the meaning behind the Bard's words, and if he understood them correctly, their nature was… improper. But what _scared _him, was that they made him s_mile. _A genuine, shy, trembling around the edges smile. He was _amazed _by them.

Now, with that small book in his hand, he settled himself into the alcove of one of the windows. The shelf was big enough for him to comfortable draw his knees to his chest. He straightened the blanket around him, cocooning himself in the pleasant warmth. He wanted to glance one last time at Magnus, before losing himself in his reading, but then he discovered that the other man's eyes were already on him. He raised one of his eyebrows questioningly, and tried to smile at the same time.

Magnus' pen was frozen in the air and his forehead was wrinkled - a sign that he was pondering over something. "Please correct me if I'm wrong," Magnus spoke up finally and Alec prompted him to continue, "But I thought we were past conventional clothing and asking for forgiveness for not following the principles."

Ah, so Alec clearly shouldn't have apologized for his state of undress and the blanket on his back. Alec grinned. "Yes, we are. My mistake." How many times had Magnus appeared before him without a cravat or barefoot, or with his hair all tangled up and joyful madness in his eyes? There was something w_rong w_ith them practically every time they met. And it felt… _liberating._

"Good," Magnus murmured (probably wiggling his bare toes under the blanket, Alec thought) and went back to his writing.

Alec bent his head over the book. A silence hung over the room, disturbed occasionally by the scratching sound of a pen, rustling pages or distant thunder. Sometimes, Alec thought he could feel Magnus' eyes on the side of his face; his skin prickled nervously in those moments, a blush creeping his way over his neck and down under the borrowed shirt. He would turn the page then, without finishing a sonnet, and the feeling would be gone.

Alec didn't know how much time had passed, but a shadow cast itself over Alec's book and he looked up. Magnus was standing over him, a book of his own in his hands, the blanket around him.

"You look cosy there," Magnus murmured, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Alec shook his head, mesmerized by the way the afternoon sunlight was dancing over Magnus' features (and _oh_, his eyes: they were amber now, filled with that familiar w_armth_), and he obediently scooted over. It was nearly impossible for two grown up men to fit in the small alcove, but they managed. Somehow, they _fit _together. Their legs ended up tangled; Magnus' bare toes against Alec's calf, making him shiver once, until he was… used to the feeling. Not long after they stopped fidgeting, Magnus began toying absentmindedly with the edge of his trouser leg. Sometimes, _accidentally_, he would mistake Alec's piece of clothing for his own, and his fingers would brush against Alec's ankle. A ghostly touch on pale skin, tickling like a touch of a smooth feather that made Alec tremble inside. He had to clench his fingers around the edges of the book, his knuckles turning white - or else he thought he would melt into a puddle of goo. When it happened for the first time, he discreetly glanced at Magnus, and his heart fluttered in his chest at the sight: the other man's temple was against the cold glass of the window, his eyes, half-lidded and languid, were glued to the book. Alec realized that Magnus was more _resting _than reading, and he let himself relax.

He didn't see the way Magnus smiled softly afterwards.

* * *

The distant sound of a grandfather clock striking five had them shaking off their state of half-sleep. They blinked at each other and then Magnus grinned lazily.

"What do you say? Dinner?" They untangled themselves from each other's limbs and blankets, stood up and groaned in unison. "Ow, my poor, old bones," Magnus whined.

Alec winced sympathetically, feeling the same pull in his own muscles. They had spent God knows how many hours in practically the same position, curled up on a small and hard surface. That wasn't very wise, Alec had to admit, but… _pleasant_, while it lasted.

"Dinner sounds fantastic right now," Alec smiled. "But I need a moment to tidy myself up." He brushed his fingers through his mop of hair, grimacing.

"Of course," Magnus said. "Though I don't know what you mean, you look gorgeous." He outright laughed at Alec's bewildered expression, politely not commenting on the red flames blossoming on Alec's pale cheeks. "No, Christ, I understand," he said, still chucking. "I want to change, too."

They agreed that Magnus would come to Alec's room to get him when they were both ready. They parted ways upstairs, both vanishing behind different doors.

Alec did a quick job with washing his face, brushing his hair and changing into his own clothes. He even put on his tailcoat - it was dry now - he ought to look presentable for their first dinner together. He started pacing around the room, wondering if he should just sit on the bed and wait for Magnus. Then a knock resounded, and he was freed of his dilemma.

Magnus was waiting for him, standing in the hallway. He did change, but to Alec's relief, his attire was not something pompous or official. His hair was hanging loosely around his face, as always, and Alec felt buzzing satisfaction flowing in his veins: if he would want to run his fingers through Magnus' black strands, his hand would come out free of brilliantine or any other unnecessary hair product. Then he realized that his left palm was actually twitching, eager to fulfil this little fantasy. (Why on earth would he want to do that? As a friendly gesture? This didn't make any sense. But he couldn't help thinking about that. Magnus' hair was just so… _pretty_.) Alec coughed to cover his embarrassment.

The dining room was downstairs. The sight of it took Alec's breath away. It wasn't an enormous room, but there was something about it; darkness and shadows hiding in the corners, where the warm light of a crystal chandelier didn't reach. The walls were blood red, the table standing in the middle was long, but still not as overwhelming as the one in the Institute. The room was gloomy, probably due to the weather outside, yet it seemed _friendlier _than the bright place where the Lightwood family dined. Or maybe it was just Magnus' presence at Alec's side, always glowing, making everything more bearable.

Magnus moved back one of the chairs and offered it to Alec, grinning and beckoning for him.

"You're having way too much fun with all this," Alec grumbled after he sat down and Magnus grabbed the back of the chair to scoot him closer to the table. Only it was a job for a footman or a gentlemanly thing to do for a lady.

"Oh, it _is_ unfortunate," Magnus said, walking around to seat himself opposite Alec. "That you cannot come home and you're imprisoned here, with me." He smirked. "But I'm glad you are."

The unoccupied chairs around them glared at the younger man. He couldn't imagine dining here every day, alone. Alec smiled, "I'm glad you are having me."

"You said your siblings would worry," Magnus started, and in that moment Ragnor came into the room, carrying a tray with two bowls. "_Bonjour_ again, my sweet Ragnor," Magnus threw in his direction (the man treated him with a cold gaze), and then continued, "Do you think they are worrying right now? Or did you say that as an excuse, because you didn't want to stay here?"

"It was partly the purpose, yes," Alec chuckled. "But honestly, I doubt Jace even noticed the lack of my presence. Izzy, on the other hand, will be more furious than worried. Then she will force me to tell her where I was, and when I answer, she will sit on me until I tell her all the details."

Magnus laughed, sending waves of contentment through Alec's chest. Ragnor put the bowls in front of them and left. Turtle soup had been served, and they started eating vigorously.

"What were you reading when we were almost sleeping?" Alec asked between one spoon and the next, and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of the question.

"_The Divine Comedy,_" Magnus responded."I find it fascinating. I was exploring _Paradise_ today."

"_Paradise? _I prefer _Inferno._"

Magnus murmured, "_Lasciate ogni speranza, voi che'entrate._" Alec was mesmerized by the way the foreign words rolled off Magnus' tongue, in a perfect Italian accent. Then Magnus added, "Mhm, it's my favourite too. Usually. But I felt like reading _Paradise _today. It seemed… suitable." Magnus shrugged.

Alec finished his meal, wondering if Magnus' words were supposed to mean what he thought they meant. The tips of his ears burned at such an _impudent _thought on his part. Who was he to assume that, to Magnus, spending time with Alec bundled up in blankets equalled _heaven_? If he himself felt that way, it was his _problem_. He shouldn't transform those forward thoughts on to Magnus.

The second dish arrived, Chairman Meow along with it. He burst into the room in a flurry of paws and yapping, and immediately spotted Alec. Magnus tried to scold him when the dog climbed onto Alec's lap and made himself comfortable there.

"It's perfectly alright," Alec reassured, scratching Chairman behind his ears. "I'm used to it. And Church is much bigger. I cannot count how many times he jumped on me when I was younger and toppled me over on the floor."

Magnus muttered something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like, "Lucky dog."

They ate their roast meat and then ice-cream, Alec sharing his with Chairman. The dog was on cloud nine, and Magnus finally announced he was officially jealous. He always tried to keep Meow's diet reasonable - he didn't want his dog to get so fat that he would sweep the floor with his tummy. And now Chairman Meow found himself a new friend, a friend who petted him and fed him and was nice and had warm hands. Magnus didn't stand a chance against such competition.

After dinner, they were going to transfer to the day room, have a tumbler of cognac, maybe read some more in the warm gleam flooding from the fireplace. But Alec's eyelids were already dropping, and even though it was a little past eight o'clock, he felt a bit tired. He voiced his wish to retire to bed early. Perhaps his body was seeing a chance in this - today was the first day in a very long time where he didn't think about his work. He let himself rest and relax in Magnus' company. They had been lazing around the whole day, but still, Alec needed actual sleep.

Magnus saw him to his borrowed bedroom's door. He was carrying a candle, his index finger curled through a holder of a brass chamber stick.

"I'm sorry I ruined the evening," Alec said quietly, when they were ready to part. His hand was on a doorknob, but he was reluctant to go inside.

"Shh, don't speak of it."

There was something intimate about the way the yellow trembling light was enveloping only their faces, leaving everything else in complete darkness. They were standing close, _so_ _close_; breaths mingling together, drinking each other's words directly from their lips. Speaking quietly, as if the air around them was made of glass.

"Goodnight, Alexander," Magnus whispered. "And you can sleep in. Don't you dare wake up at dawn." He smiled softly and reached out his hand, smoothing something on Alec's collar.

Alec sighed, "Sleep well, Magnus." The man's thumb grazed over his pulse point, the pressure almost unnoticeable, and Alec closed his eyes, just for a second. He felt _warmth _getting closer to his face, leaning over him and he shivered with… anticipation. Then it was gone.

When he opened his eyes, Magnus was already walking away from him, his figure but a shadow disappearing down the corridor. The scent of candle wax hung in the air.

* * *

Alec hadn't been lying earlier when he'd said he was tired. Now, he simply was not able to fall asleep. He was lying wide awake in the middle of the bed, unmoving. Someone had left a male nightgown for him; it had been laying on the top of the sheets when he'd entered the room, bright white in the blue of the moonlight. It smelled like earth just before rain hits the ground, like fresh dew, and skin warmed up by the sun. It smelled like _Magnus_. Maybe it had been put with Magnus' other clothes in a drawer. Or maybe, at some point, it had touched Magnus' naked skin, the thin material sliding across his arms and chest and thighs… Alec had ignored the piece of clothing; he'd stripped down to nothing and crawled into the bed, naked. Later, his arm reached for it. He pressed his cheek to the material and closed his eyes.

* * *

**Um. The scene at Alec's bedroom door? It was partly inspired by the simliar scene from the movie _Becoming Jane,_ when Lefroy and Jane are saying their goodnights and then he calls for her and they _almost _kiss...? Anyone saw that movie? It's awesome, I love it. **

**Okay, remember, if you have any questions, doubts, something is not clear, etc - don't hesitate to ask. I'm not, by any means, an expert (hahah) on this period of time, my whole knowledge is based on books and movies, but I'll do my best to answer your questions. **

**One more thing. The majority of you, my lovely readers, voiced their wish to read something from Magnus' POV. I'll see what I can do, I can't promise anything, but I'll definitely think about it.**

**Thanks so much for reading! :) Reviews are love!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hrhr, new chapter. You guys know that I love you, righty right? Thank you so much for your continuous support *squishes with gratitude* **

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe (who is so much more than my beta, duh, she's the start of my rainbow while I'm the end. - that was a terrible, terrible metaphor, I'm sorry, but I feel kinda stoned. Please forgive me.)**

* * *

Alec was woken up by the sharp sound of the curtains being dragged open. He hadn't drawn the curtains around his bed last night, so now there was nothing there to stop the blinding light of the morning from assaulting his eyes.

"Good morning, little lord!" someone exclaimed. The voice unmistakably belonged to Ragnor, but Alec was suspicious about the cheery tone. "Did you sleep well?"

Alec blinked his eyes open, and then immediately pushed his face back into the warmth of his pillow. "Yes, I did," he mumbled, "Thank you."

"It has stopped raining," Ragnor was _jabbering. _"The sky is pearly grey and I think that is the sun appearing from behind the mist. You will be able to return home."

Alec shuffled so he was propped against the headboard. In the second that the chilly air hit his skin, he became aware of his state of nakedness. He yanked on the duvet and pressed it to his pale chest, the gesture making him look like a blushing maid. There was something wrong, he was _uncomfortable. _

"What happened to you?" Alec asked and winced at how rude he sounded.

Ragnor's face was passive, but serious. He stood in the middle of the room, right in front of Alec. "What exactly is the meaning of your words, sir?" he asked, all business like.

Alec huffed, "You are…" He made an indefinable gesture with his hands. "You are being nice to me," he finally blurted out.

"Is that so?" Ragnor actually smirked. "Do you wish me to stop?"

"No! No, I'm actually… relieved." Alec gave the man a look over. "Is there a reason why you are acting different? I'm not complaining. I just…" he trailed off, hoping that Ragnor would continue from there.

The man didn't disappoint him. Ragnor shuffled on his feet and started talking, "I spoke to mister Magnus last night." Alec perked up, his eyes widening. "It was quite a long conversation, and a very fruitful one. He… explained a lot of things to me. Among other affairs, he said he trusted you." He looked straight into Alec's eyes, and Alec gulped - in fear or against the sudden dryness in his throat, he did not know. "And it puzzles me, mister. I never trust strangers - and I apologize for my hostility earlier - but this life at the Banes' side has taught me that it's better that way." Alec flinched imperceptibly. What was that supposed to mean? There was something… _scary _and _scared _in Ragnor's tone. "Despite that, Magnus chose to confide in you." Ragnor cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. Maybe his magical powers gave him the ability to read humans' souls?

Alec shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze. And with a gasp he realized what had seemed _wrong_ earlier. There was a hardness between his legs. He was a_roused. _He was in a middle of one of the most bizarre and important and serious conversations in his life and he was _aroused_. It must have been his dreams - he couldn't control his dreams after all - but he didn't remember what he'd dreamt about. Or perhaps it was the sweet scent, surrounding him, stimulating his nostrils. The smell reminded him of something. Guided by a soft, faint memory in the back of his head, he peeked under the covers, hoping he was being discreet. There was Magnus' nightgown tangled around his legs. A wave of _heat; _embarrassing, exhilarating, lovely; overwhelmed him in an instant.

Meanwhile Ragnor, seemingly oblivious to Alec's state, sighed at his own thoughts, "I still don't know what your intentions are. Yet I'm certainly glad he has found you, mister Lightwood. He seems… lighter." The heat in Alec's belly flowed through him, turning into a feeling of content. Ragnor continued, "But let me tell you two things." Alec nodded quickly, as if Ragnor needed permission to speak. "One: don't hurt him, mister. Whatever your intentions are, do not hurt him."

"I wouldn't," Alec hurried to say. "I won't. I swear."

"Good." Ragnor's face softened. "And two: watch out for yourself, little lord." Alec was lost there. He tried to speak up, ask about what Ragnor meant, but the man didn't let him. "Just… Some things aren't obvious or _easy. _They need time - to grow, to become evident. Give him that time, will you? Give him a chance. Promise to let him explain, to _listen,_ when the time comes?"

Alec frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I…?"

"Some of those things are _vital_, my lord, yet still difficult to share."

Alec tried to straighten up, wincing at his… discomfort. The feeling faded upon Ragnor's words, but it was still pulsing low in Alec's abdomen, threatening to come back. "I don't understand what you mean, Ragnor," he said in a steady voice. "Could you be more direct, please?"

Ragnor shook his head, and Alec noticed just now that the man seemed almost… sad. Resigned. "It is not my place to say more." And then his facial expression shifted, his features brightened, and something mischievous began to appear in the corners of his mouth. "That was all what I had to say. Would you like to finish now, my lord?"

Alec almost choked on his own saliva. No. _No. _Ragnor couldn't possibly know…?

The man continued, his tone indifferent, as if he was speaking about the weather, "I will change the sheets afterwards. Worry not, I won't say a word to the master of the house."

"Oh, God, no!" Alec spluttered out, blushing furiously. "No! That's not… Ragnor… You are mistaken…"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." Ragnor was completely unmoved and Alec couldn't quite believe it. "It's a natural, healthy reaction. It would help to get it out of your system."

Alec hid his face in his hands, utterly mortified. How could he possibly tell Ragnor that he never even _touched _himself for the sake of purest pleasure…? If he did, it was because he didn't have time to wait for the feeling to subside, and the act itself was always followed closely by _shame_. It seemed like an unthinkable, _wrong_ thing to do. A physical demand of his body that he didn't have control over. It was always mechanical, his brain shutting down and Alec knew it shouldn't be like that. But he didn't have anyone to talk to about… sexual matters. His father was out of the question, and Jace… Thinking of Jace in such a compromising situation made things even worse.

"Please, Ragnor," Alec mumbled from behind his fingers, his cheeks flaming under the skin of his palms. "Please, just go."

Ragnor had the impudence to chuckle. "As you wish, my lord." Alec heard him turning to leave. Ragnor added, "Breakfast will be ready soon." And then he vanished, with an impressed murmur, "Ah, youth!"

* * *

Alec sprang out of the bed as soon as the door was closed. His erection flattened by now and he was determined to ignore the remains of his arousal. He picked up his trousers and the linen undershirt and clothed himself. Then he washed his face, grateful for the freezing fresh water in the basin. It certainly helped to clear his thoughts. He was in a middle of looking for his tie and buttoning his shirt with one hand, when the door to his bedroom opened again.

Magnus stood on the threshold, a tray with what looked like Alec's breakfast in his hands. His eyes were wide open, brows high on his forehead - a sign of surprise, which was so rarely seen on his face - as if he wasn't expecting Alec to be up yet.

After a while of intense staring from both sides, Magnus seemed to stir himself to awareness and spoke up, "What are you doing here?"

Alec froze. "Uh, I could ask you the same thing?"

Magnus chuckled, and the tension, the mesmerizing _enchantment, _slowly began to fade away. "I meant here, as standing here in the middle of the room instead of being asleep safely tucked in my fluffy bed." His grin was contagious, the white of his teeth blinding. "I brought you breakfast. I was hoping to surprise you."

"Oh, you did," Alec said and astonished Magnus (and probably himself too) by obediently crawling back onto the bed. He sat crossed-legged on top of the sheets with an expectant expression on his face.

Magnus had no other choice than to join him. He came up closer and carefully placed the tray in front of his guest. Only then Alec noticed that Magnus was already fully clothed and ready for the day. His attire was complete except for a tailcoat: a white dress shirt, apparently freshly ironed and wrinkle-free, the shirtfront pleated and neat; the collar stiff around Magnus' neck, kept in place by a pearly grey neckerchief; a perfectly-cut waistcoat, in the colour of young, spring grass. His long legs were in plain grey trousers, they stretched out in front of him when he decided to sit on the edge of Alec's bed.

It was a very… beautiful picture to look at, yet Alec frowned. "How long you've been awake? What time did you get up?" He felt so inadequate, sitting there in front of Magnus, almost naked in comparison to him. But it was the least of his worries, the important question was: had Magnus slept at all? Between talking to Ragnor at night and then walking around the house since dawn, did he even remember to fall asleep?

Magnus waved his hand dismissively. "I left my bedroom a few hours ago," was his careless answer.

"Because you felt well rested and you decided you had enough sleep already? Is that so?"

"No." There was something sharp in Magnus' response, something not entirely directed towards Alec, before he collected himself and added, "I couldn't sleep."

"Why didn't you wake me up then? What's the purpose of me being here if I can't even keep you company?"

Magnus focused his gaze on him - earlier he seemed distracted by something. His eyes were impossibly green today, bright and burning. "I simply thought you needed it. Rest, that is. I," he cleared his throat, as if contemplating his next words, "I had Ragnor check on you earlier and you were fast asleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

Alec blushed and made a sound of comprehension. The thought of someone 'creeping' on him during his sleep was unsettling, yet not entirely unpleasant. He knew it was a sign of care - someone was actually looking after him, and it was a foreign concept to him. Not knowing what to say, he inspected the food that Magnus had brought. There was a glass of milk and another one of orange juice; a cup of coffee, a small cube of butter, some honey, and a slim bottle of amber liquid. However, it was the big plate of _something_ hidden under the cloche that took the majority of the space, and when Alec removed it, a familiar smell hit his nostrils.

"You remembered," he breathed in awe. There was a pile of golden, fluffy pancakes sitting in front of him.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw Magnus smiling at him. "Of course I did. Anything that is spoken about with such passion easily becomes embedded." He encouraged Alec with a gesture to start eating.

The first bite was absolutely delicious and Alec nearly moaned. He peeked at Magnus. "Aren't you going to join me?" There weren't any spare plates or pieces of silver cutlery, but Alec hoped that Magnus didn't mind sharing. He should blush at the bluntness of his thoughts, yet somehow the concept seemed _natural _in his mind.

"Nah, I've already eaten."

"A few hours ago, I presume."

Magnus snorted, "Well, yes, but I am not hungry." He eyed Alec and then added with a murmur, "At least I wasn't. You're making it difficult for me to keep to my eating schedule." He licked his lips.

"You have an 'eating schedule'? How boring," Alec huffed, half-jokingly.

Magnus rolled his eyes and gently told him to stop talking and eat his breakfast.

Alec, of course, happily complied. He sipped at his milk, trying to cover his enthusiasm with good manners. But then he realized that he was acting ridiculous. He had never had to pretend in front of Magnus before. When they were together, Alec could finally be himself. Magnus wasn't going to judge him or laugh at him. Here, comfortably cushioned in a bed that didn't belong to him, fascinated by the way the morning light was dancing across the sheets and his companion's back, he couldn't even describe how much he _loved s_pending time with Magnus. Then the other man leaned back, shifting his weight so it was resting on his hands, and tipped his head back a little bit. There was no impatience in the movement, only the instinct to get more comfortable, without worrying about _exposing_ himself. Alec sucked in a sharp breath. Suddenly, he felt impossibly selfish_. _He wished to monopolize Magnus, take away his time, and twist it into _their _time _together. _And in the meantime, he didn't even think about his family, about his position, about his duty.

In that moment Magnus' stomach grumbled. They both froze and then laughed breathlessly, Alec choking unnoticeably over the sound escaping his throat.

"Now I feel bad," Alec muttered.

Magnus looked at him. "You've lost me here. Why, exactly, do you feel bad? Will the feeling vanish if I do that?" He snatched a piece of Alec's pancake and chewed on it. "Mmm. Just what I needed."

Alec fought the urge to chuckle. The topic he was going to touch was a serious one, and he didn't want to disregard it. He just thought he would use Magnus' hunger to speak up without sounding too suspicious.

"No, it's not that," he said and Magnus raised an eyebrow. Alec's thoughts stumbled over each other. Damn him. "I… You… It's… It's rather stupid," he huffed. What was he supposed to say? '_Magnus. You make me want to do… things for myself. I __forget myself around you.__You make me feel s_pecial, _and I selfishly want you all to myself. I can't think properly when you are around and yet I don't want you to go.' _Oh, because that would work.

Magnus surprised him once again, though. During Alec's internal monologue, he was sitting quietly, waiting for Alec to continue, not pushing him. Sometimes, Magnus would feel, look and behave like an exuberant kind of person, everything he did was _more,_ but there he was now: patient, unmoving, understanding.

Alec swallowed and made another attempt. "I feel like I'm neglecting my duties," he said, uselessly.

Magnus didn't start laughing, he did not snort contemptuously, he did not disregard Alec's worries (even though it was only a tiny part of them). God, what was Alec so afraid of? Instead, Magnus climbed fully onto the bed. He sat crossed-legged opposite Alec, a half-empty tray between them.

He propped his chin against the knuckles of his hand, his elbow on his knee. "Are you really neglecting them? Or are you just feeling like you are? Because if there is one thing that I can already say about you, it is that you worry too much. And I am almost certain that you are too harsh on yourself."

Alec actually stopped and pondered over Magnus' words. "Huh. Interesting point of view." Magnus beamed. Alec carried on, "I don't… really know. I feel like I should do _more. _My father once told me that being a lord consists of never-ending work. He wants me to be ready when the time comes. And I'm trying so hard to live up to his expectations, but when I take a day off, like today, I sometimes feel like I need to start over. From the beginning. Like I can never stop or else it's ruined." He peeked at Magnus. "I'm not making sense, am I?

Magnus shook his head and Alec's heart sank. "No, no," the green-eyed man hurried to say, "I understand what you mean. And it seems I was right. You are not doing anything wrong. I may not be the most suitable person to tell you that," something dark crossed his face, "but you should trust me on this." Magnus reached for Alec's chin and propped it so Alec was looking straight into his eyes, his head held high. "There," he breathed, like he was satisfied with what he found in the endless blue. His expression softened, "You are your own person, Alexander. Don't let your father tell you what to do." Alec's blue eyes widened - Magnus' views were rather… inventive. After all, Alec was born to listen to his father, to obey. "As long as your actions feel right, you have nothing to worry about."

He let go of Alec's chin and Alec could finally breathe again. But at the same time, he missed the physical contact. "I understand," Alec said and nodded, as if he was trying to emphasize Magnus' words or maybe his own, or perhaps he tried to convince himself about their righteousness. "Thank you for saying that," he added softly.

"You are welcome," Magnus smiled.

And just like that, they focused on the rest of Alec's breakfast. Alec would eat one more pancake, occasionally offering Magnus a bite, reaching with his fork towards the man. The silver piece of cutlery would travel back and forth between them. Or Magnus would just lean forward, open his mouth and eat directly from Alec's fork. The first time it happened, Alec choked on his milk. Then he started to have too much fun with it. He was going to pretend that the whole deal looked like he was feeding a hopeless baby. But then again, if that was the case, there should be nothing sensual about it.

* * *

Alec left Idris House some time around noon. They parted ways with a lingering promise: to see each other soon.

Alec let himself inside the Institute through the back door. He breathed in the familiar scent of old walls, their presence around him surreal after the previous night. He didn't meet any of the servants on his way to the library.

When he stepped inside the room, he spotted her right away. Isabelle was sitting in one of the armchairs, deeply immersed in her reading. Her legs were thrown against the armrest, her calves and the lace trims of her slips visible from under her dress. A resigned sigh escaped Alec's lips, tinged with fondness. If Isabelle wasn't going to learn soon that it was not allowed to show any more than maybe an ankle, Alec, being her brother, would have to be prepared to defend her virtue. He couldn't help himself – perhaps he spent too much time with Magnus – he chuckled quietly. It should not be a subject of jokes, but Isabelle's restless irresponsibility coupled with Alec's own seriousness seemed sort of… funny.

Isabelle, obviously, didn't miss the sound. She jumped to her feet, the book landing somewhere behind the armchair. "Where the hell have you been?!" she shouted.

"Isabelle! Language!" Alec scolded his sister, stepping closer to her against better judgement.

"Oh, don't give me that. Not you, not now." She flung her black hair back over her shoulder, the gesture of her white hand demanding. "I've been worrying about you and you're so not going to give me the lecture on how to speak properly right now."

Alec sighed. He would never win a fight against his sister. Not that they were quarrelling at the moment. Alec came here with a purpose, though that didn't necessary mean he was eager to share his secret.

"Alright, sit down, please," he said.

Isabelle complied, though reluctantly, muttering under her breath about irresponsible, infuriating older brothers.

Alec seated himself opposite her. He took a deep breath. "Alright. Do you remember our conversation not long ago?" She looked at him closely. "I think I might have figured it out finally."

Isabelle nodded, suddenly wary, attentive. Oh, she'd been always so good at reading Alec's moods. "I'm listening," she encouraged him.

"Simon once mentioned that somebody had bought the Idris House. And, you see, I met that person." He inhaled and said quickly, "His name is Magnus Bane, he's our new neighbour and he's… nice." _What an __understatement. _"I've been going out to see him for some time now. That's where I was last night. The storm made it impossible for me to come back home."

It was only then when he noticed Isabelle was holding her breath. Her eyes were wide and full of joy. When he was finished, she smiled widely. "You spent the night there?"

"Um, yes?"

"Fantastic!" she clapped her hands. "What was he like? Except for 'nice'," she grimaced when she quoted her brother. "Do you like him?"

Alec pondered over his answer. He didn't want to blurt out something foolish, like… "I do," he said. He could feel the tips of his ears slowly turning pink.

Isabelle beamed. "Is he handsome?" she asked conspiratorially.

Alec leaned back and looked at her with his eyebrows raised. "Um," was she asking because she was interested in the mysterious newcomer? Or did she want to know Alec's opinion? Alec felt bile rising up his throat. He was trapped. He swallowed with some effort. "I'll let you be the judge of that, Isabelle," he said, hating the uneven sound of his voice. "I was going to invite him over here. What do you think?" He turned his head towards her, but didn't quite meet her eyes.

"It's a terrific idea," she responded, practically bouncing on her seat. "I actually don't know why you didn't think about it sooner."

_Oh I did, _Alec thought bitterly, _only_ _he rejected me. _The morning made him think that it would be different this time. Laughing with Magnus in one of the guest bedrooms, he'd felt like he belonged, like he was safe – and wasn't that downright ridiculous? He desperately tried to make the connection with his family, because shouldn't his loved ones make him feel that way? Alec could recall a time when they did, not so long ago, and he thought he could live on the shreds of his memories – until it was all eclipsed by the arrival of Magnus, and the memories were simply not enough.

Now, he didn't know why he was being so optimistic. Suddenly his plan of introducing Magnus to his family stopped looking so ideal - and Isabelle's strange, a little bit too enthusiastic reaction helped the unsettling feelings plant themselves in Alec's stomach. "I'm going to my office now, if you'll excuse me."

Isabelle looked at him with a frown, clearly put off by the sudden change in her brother's behaviour. She finally gave him permission to walk away. However, when he was almost out of the room, she said after him, "I'm glad he has met you, Alec."

Wasn't she supposed to say something like, 'I'm glad you've met him'? Maybe he misheard it? If she had said that instead, it could have been interpreted as she was seeing an opportunity in this. To meet someone new, even a potential hus- Alec shrugged, not knowing what his sister meant after all, and feeling slightly nauseous, he left the library.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi guys! *waves shyly* I know it's been quite a long time, but I was out of town and I wasn't able to update. I'm back now and the updates should be more or less regular again. I would like to thank you for your patience and your support: your kind words, reviews, favs and alerts :) It keeps me writing, you are all wonderful. **

**Beta'ed, as always, by ChaseThisLightWithMe. I love you, sweet pea! (Oh, ouch, CoLS feels attacked me all at once).**

* * *

Two days later, Alec was sitting on the Institute front steps. Evening was falling, the grey skies with smudges of orange were now slowly turning dark. Alec was playing absentmindedly with his top hat, shifting his fingers across the brim. It was rather cold, and his fingertips were slowly going numb. Church was laying at his master's feet. From time to time he would lift his head and sniff at the air, checking if their guest was here yet. The actions made Alec even more nervous, and he glared at his dog. Church, oblivious to his master's restlessness, met his blue eyes, his own gaze heavy-lidded, supercilious and wistful.

They were waiting for Magnus, who – to Alec's surprise and relief – had accepted Lightwoods' invitation.

Alec had talked to Izzy first. Again, after their first conversation the day he came back home, she'd crawled into his bed that evening. It was almost like it used to be – her presence at his side comforting, welcome. She'd started speaking into the darkness (Alec had already blown out his candle), her breath caressing his collarbone. She'd admitted that she'd noticed his _absence_ at home, and then his _absentmindedness_ when he came back. She paid close attention to his rolled-up sleeves, loosened cravats and the smudges of dust and graphite on his shirt. To his pinked cheeks and permanent smile, the way he looked healthy. She hadn't said anything, because her brother had promised he would come to her when he was ready. Then she'd hurried to say, in frantic whispers, that if he was not comfortable with sharing his 'acquaintance' just yet, he obviously was not forced to do that. (Alec was grateful, though he didn't know why he would not want that. He and Magnus already acted as if they were attached to the hip, and there was no need in trying to hide that. Yet Isabelle seemed to know more about his relationship with Magnus than Alec himself.)

At the end, she'd jumped out of the bed. When Alec had nestled deeper into his pillows, expecting her departure to follow shortly after, she threw, _"Of course, I would never forgive you now if you didn't introduce me to mister Bane. I must know who makes my big brother so happy. And warn him about the consequences of hurting you." _Then she'd kissed his forehead and left, and Alec had been too dumbfounded to respond.

The next day it was time for Alec's conversation with Magnus. He had been too nervous (and excited) to wait for the proper moment, so he'd just blurted out immediately after stepping into the day room, _"I would like you to meet my family," _and he'd chased it with a pathetic, _"Please?" _Magnus had looked at him with wide (and so beautiful…) eyes, clearly not expecting that. Then Alec, already cowering upon Magnus' following rejection, had mumbled, _"My sister made me. She didn't give me a choice." _It was only half-true, but Alec would do anything to lessen the feeling of humiliation already crawling and prickling under his skin. He'd peeked at Magnus when the other man had stayed silent for too long. He could see a set of emotions crossing Magnus' face: hesitation, hope, fear, shy happiness, resignation, and more hesitation. Something had finally won and Magnus had _smiled. _There were tight lines around the corners of his mouth, but Alec was there to work on that. And Magnus had answered, _"It would be an honour."_

Alec abruptly stopped analysing the memories when he heard footsteps approaching on the gravelly forecourt. He sprang to his feet and squinted, trying to discern Magnus' silhouette in the semi-darkness. Church helped him by lifting his body and trotting in the direction of their guest.

"Magnus!" Alec waved enthusiastically when he finally spotted him. He felt foolish for waiting outside, but the feeling was dangerously mixed with silly happiness, blossoming in his chest upon seeing his friend.

Magnus emerged from the greys of the evening, his figure dark except for his bright white shirtfront and his teeth, flashing in a gorgeous smile.

"Good evening, Alexander," Magnus purred.

"Hello," Alec ducked his head. "Please, come in."

Magnus looked around himself in curiosity, craning his neck to survey the tall walls of the Institute. "Your house is amazing," he breathed.

"It's old," Alec replied, neither agreeing nor denying Magnus' words.

They came through the door. Simon greeted them inside, with bows and floods of _welcome_s for their guest, taking Magnus' coat from him. Magnus' shoulders were set tight, as if he wasn't used to people making a fuss around him, or didn't like it, or associated it with something unpleasant.

Alec, with some hesitation, put his hand on the small of Magnus' back, hoping that the gesture was comforting enough. He felt a small buzz of satisfaction when Magnus leant into the touch. With a gentle push, Alec started leading his guest further down the corridors to the drawing room, where his siblings were already waiting.

"There is no need to be nervous," Alec murmured.

"I'm not nervous," Magnus responded, in equal quiet manner, "You, on the other hand…"

Alec clasped his hands tightly behind his own back. "My siblings can be quite overwhelming, if they intend to."

"Oh, I think I'm prepared for it."

"No, you don't understand," Alec said in a frustrated whisper. He didn't know why he was whispering in the first place, but the odd intimacy of the atmosphere kind of demanded it. "They will probably try to embarrass me."

Magnus chuckled; the low, throaty sound going straight to the core of Alec's bones. "I won't let them."

Alec huffed as they stopped in front of the right door. He smoothed the non-existent wrinkles out of his tailcoat, and then Magnus grabbed his wrist.

"Stop. You are going to be alright. _We _are going to be alright." He smiled and just like that, with one exhale, Alec regained his composure.

They stepped inside the drawing room. The space was bathed in warm colours: crimsons and purples, as if the already asleep sun had left its trace; as well as yellow gleam that was coming from the huge fireplace. Alec observed as Magnus took in the scenery: politely looking around, trying not to seem too curious or too indifferent. He followed his guest's gaze: up, a couple of china figurines were standing on a marble shelf over the fire, all meaningless, cold - as a sharp contrast to the warmth surrounding them and swivelling through Alec's veins. Next, on the right, there was a single bookshelf, containing some random books, nothing of their precious readings, and a stack of Isabelle's newspapers. There was also a single desk nearby, its top empty as usual. On the left stood a clavichord. Alec could pinpoint the moment Magnus' eyes widened, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Magnus forced himself to look away, and then his eyes finally landed on the scene directly in front of them, taking place in the middle of the room. Set up around the fireplace, there were two armchairs and a chaise longue.

Isabelle Lightwood was sitting on the chaise longue, her back straight, her palms neatly folded on her lap, her perfect smile already stretched across her lips. Alec nearly snorted at the sight – he knew that just mere seconds ago, his sister had been sprawled across the cushions, probably wagging her leg inches above the floor (her ankle obviously exposed), and bickering with Jace over something completely trivial. Now, some of Alec's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Isabelle seemed to read them perfectly. She shuffled on her seat and threw her hair over her shoulder in a haughty gesture, exposing her long white neck.

"Mister Bane," she said in a sweet voice, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." She held out her hand, giving Magnus no other choice than to come closer. He took her small palm and placed a kiss right in the air above her wrist.

"Miss Isabelle Lightwood, my sister," Alec announced form behind Magnus' back.

Isabelle looked absolutely stunning tonight. Her evening attire was navy blue, the colour complementing her fair skin. The dress was low-cut, and combined with unusually tightly laced up corselet; it was doing wonders to her bosom. She had thin blue ribbons wrapped around her wrists and neck – and those looked more like deadly whips than ornaments which were supposed to make her look innocent – as well as braided in her long, black hair.

Magnus straightened up and flashed a smile. "Magnus Bane, at your service." They bowed simultaneously.

Isabelle started playing with one of her stray locks. "My brother has been acting terribly rude by keeping you a secret for so long, don't you think?"

Magnus opened his mouth to say something, and judging from the creases of his features it was going to be a denial of her words, but then a slight cough resounded from behind him.

"I don't know," Jace's voice muttered, "The gentleman still seems pretty secretive to me."

Magnus twirled around. A blonde man was sitting in one of the armchairs, deeply sunk into the plush upholstery. His cocked head was propped on his knuckles, and there was a sneer on his face.

"Oh, my apologies," Magnus said, "I didn't see you there, sir."

Jace's eyes narrowed and Alec butted in to avoid the nearing clash and comparing egos. "Mister Jonathan Lightwood, my brother," he introduced.

"It's Jace," Jace grunted.

Magnus slightly turned his head towards Alec and whispered theatrically, loud enough for the whole room to hear, "So this is the annoying little brother?" Alec spluttered, choking on his own saliva, and then Magnus looked back at Jace and smiled sweetly. "It's an honour to meet you."

Jace was red in the face, though Alec couldn't tell if his brother was angry or if he was trying to hold back laugher. "Certainly. You should feel honoured by meeting my marvellous self." The blonde man grinned and Magnus chose to roll his eyes.

Through the exchange, Isabelle was hiding her giggles behind her hand. When Alec turned, she offered him a place next to her on the chaise longue. Magnus was left to sit in the other armchair, dangerously close to Jace.

"So, mister Bane," Isabelle started anew, "What brings you to our county?"

Alec tensed, cursing mentally. He knew it was not the best topic to discuss with Magnus. Then again, it was the most basic information and he should have known that Isabelle would want to start with that kind of question. It would have been a perfect beginning for a conversation, if there had been anything _customary_ about them. He risked a glance at Magnus – the man's face was blank.

"It's difficult to explain," Magnus answered. "Sometimes, one encounters an urge so strong that it is impossible not to follow." He tilted his head, observing Isabelle from behind his eyelashes. "Can you understand, miss?"

Isabelle's smile faltered a little, until she composed herself. "In fact, I can," she replied. Then she stood up abruptly, and if Alec didn't know better, he would say that his sister tried to hide her blush. "I shall ring for our refreshments," she explained and went to pull the string.

Jace ignored her and decided to hold the conversation. He said gruffly, "And how long are you going to stay?"

Oh, and that was a very interesting question. Alec waited impatiently for Magnus' answer.

The man shrugged, dismissive. "I don't know," he said, his sincerity cutting painfully through Alec's chest. And then Magnus looked straight into Alec's eyes, "I was hoping for 'forever'…?"

Alec's breath hitched. A slow, delighted smile melted across his lips, even if it was impossible that Magnus' words meant what Alec hoped, imagined, dreamt they meant.

And then Isabelle came back, ruining the moment. "Forever is a terribly long time, mister Bane. What is so fascinating about this place?" She sat down next to Alec, after sending him a funny look.

"Oh, everything. All I know is that I keep dreaming of endless blue." And then, as an afterthought, "Of the skies above us, I mean. I've never seen blue like that before."

Jace snorted, "I don't know. I always thought they were just grey."

Isabelle giggled and Alec just sat there, confused. The England sky was beautiful, yes, but in its usual greys and colourful variations of sunrises and sunsets. It was never the purest blue of Magnus' thoughts.

The arrival of their titbits washed the frown off Alec's face. They helped themselves to tea or hot chocolate, small pastries, blueberry puffs and small layered cakes. Alec balanced a saucer and a cup of tea on his knee, and noticed Magnus doing the same. They smiled at each other, almost shyly, as Magnus raised the porcelain cup to his lips.

A few minutes had passed until Isabelle spoke up, "Well then, mister Bane, I gather you're going to be in London for the season."

The cup rattled against the saucer when Magnus lowered his hand. It was the first time Alec saw Magnus be even the slightest bit ungraceful.

"Isabelle," he sighed. "It's still not for another five months."

"I plan to," Magnus cut him off. He looked like he just now realized that the swallowed gulps of his tea were too hot for his gullet. "Is there a hidden purpose in your question?"

Jace burst out laughing at that: throwing back his head, exposing his throat. "Oh, yes, there is," he choked out, just as Isabelle said, "Not at all. Just plain curiosity." She giggled. "And with that, I give you my permission to put your name in my dance card."

Magnus bowed, "I will do that." She smiled brightly at him and he mirrored her expression, though Alec couldn't help but think that the gesture cost Magnus a great effort.

They chatted for a while about trivial, empty things, and Alec was only half invested in the conversation. The servants came in and out, taking from them their dishes. Then Jace lamented over not being able to smoke his cigar with a lady present in the room. Isabelle said she didn't mind, but after that Jace became indigent, because, _"I'm not _that _uncouth, little sister!" _Alec smiled absentmindedly at his sibling's banter, but only when he saw a kind of melancholy smile on Magnus' own face. He had to admit, he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings - Magnus Bane was a more interesting object to observe.

Throughout the evening, he would notice small things, and more so - he took pleasure in noticing them. He'd seen the way Magnus fingers played with the plush upholstery of his armchair: his hand, placed near his thigh, drawing indeterminable shapes with his fingertips, only to smooth them away with single jerk of his palm. He'd seen the way Magnus crossed and uncrossed his ankles, tapped his knuckles against his knee, ran his fingers through his hair – was he worried that he didn't look well enough? That was completely unnecessary. And endearing.

Sometimes, Magnus eyes would travel towards the clavichord. In those moments, Alec could see in Magnus' face impossible longing, and wariness. He thought he understood: if he was in Magnus' shoes, he wouldn't want his first concert in a long time to be in a presence of strangers. _He _didn't want Magnus to play in front of his siblings. (He knew he was being selfish. And he couldn't care less.)

He didn't feel bad about gaping so shamelessly – he didn't even think about feeling bad – because from time to time, he could feel Magnus' eyes on him. His lazy gaze would sweep over Alec's body, and he'd shiver and wish that he was the one sitting close to Magnus or that Magnus was the one sitting near him, instead of Izzy. It didn't make any sense, because what could he do? It wasn't like he could reach out his hand and _touch _Magnus. Yet somehow, Magnus closeness seemed enough. _(For now.) _

And sometimes, their eyes would meet. Blue locking with molten gold. They would smile, or, less likely, they would both freeze, but they would never ignore each other, pretend not to _see._ It was a moment of clarity or of sweet dizziness. Alec didn't care; it was the pleasure raking through his body that mattered, the satisfaction of having Magnus' attention on him even though they both should be listening to the person who was speaking currently.

Suddenly, Alec was dragged back to reality by Isabelle asking him a question.

"Huh?" he muttered drowsily. He noticed Magnus hiding his smile behind his hand – as if he knew that Alec had been daydreaming and moreover, he knew exactly what about – and Alec fought back a twitch of his own mouth.

"I asked 'what do you think?'" Isabelle said, exasperated. "About the picnic?"

"You want to organize a picnic?"

Isabelle nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Mister Bane would join us."

"Alright." He frowned, "But isn't it too cold already? Autumn is coming."

"Yes, we must hurry," Jace added, with a solemn expression on his face, "If we don't want our bottoms to freeze and fall out."

"Jace!" Alec cried out in horror. He looked over Magnus, probably looking for help, and saw him smirk.

"It's alright. I do care about my bottom deeply."

Isabelle chortled, not even trying to act shocked, and Jace murmured, "Good Lord."

After composing themselves, they agreed that Izzy would take care of further plans. Alec was appointed as the one who would let Magnus know about the chosen day for the picnic.

A few minutes later, Isabelle stood up. The men followed her, as good manners demanded.

"I'll take that as my cue to retire to my bedroom. Gentlemen, you have been a terrific company tonight. Mister Bane, I shall see you again anon." She curtsied and left in a flutter of her beautiful dress.

Jace said his goodnights soon after.

They were alone in the room. The warm light coming from the fireplace illuminated the right side of their faces, while the rest was shadowed.

Magnus finally spoke up, "How did it go?" He breathed the words, his voice soft and quiet.

Alec let out a chuckle. "Fine, I guess. I'll probably speak to Isabelle tomorrow and then I'll tell you."

"You did them justice when you described them. They are exactly like I imagined them. And more at the same time. I'm glad I met them."

They were smiling at each other.

"I'm glad that you're glad."

They breaths were mingling together, they were standing so close. Alec could feel the warmth radiating from Magnus' body, and he was taking delight in finally being able to _be _close to each other.

He didn't exactly think when he blurted out, "Do you want to play now?"

Magnus' eyes widened then softened. He nodded, slowly. "If I'm allowed."

"God, yes," Alec breathed. "Yes, you are."

Together, they came up closer to the clavichord. Alec let Magnus take his time. Long, caramel fingers traced the invisible patterns on the rosewood. There was something sacred in the way Magnus was becoming familiar with the instrument, as if he was saying _hello, _getting to know it. The lid was already up, and soon Magnus' fingertips grazed over the keys. As if he was being physically drawn to them, Magnus finally slid on the bench. Alec followed him, not _knowing_ and at the same time being perfectly _aware_ of crossing a new line. He sat next to Magnus, their shoulders brushing, their legs lined up, thighs and knees touching. There was no need to be that close, the bench was big enough, but Alec wanted to. Yet he didn't know if it was permitted, so he shifted to move away.

Magnus stopped him with one word. _Stay. _

His hands rested over the keys, touching but not pressing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Alec used this opportunity, and once again relaying on his instinct only, he pulled out his hand to touch Magnus'. The contrast between their skin was startling, and when his white, curious finger pressed on the vein in the back of Magnus' palm, it was enough to draw a note from the clavichord. Alec, amazed and alarmed by the sharp sound and the force with which it resounded around the room, looked up to see that Magnus' eyes were already open. And currently fixed on Alec's face. Not on their hands, even though they seemed so fascinating to Alec, not on the instrument. They were on _him. _

Alec sighed. Their hands were still locked. _They were so close. _He leaned even closer and…

Magnus turned his head and exhaled one more time. He started playing.

* * *

***I like to think that in this scene Magnus plays Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_. There is no hidden reason, I just like it. (And I have no idea if it can be played on a clavichord :D)**

**Please tell me your thoughts! Thanks for reading! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hi...? I know, it's been a long time, and I'm really sorry, but... life gets in the way sometimes. Please don't hate me :c This chapter is quite short, but the next one will be up sooner (and this time it's a promise!) and it'll be 'the picnic' chapter, so I think you'll like it ;) Enjoy!**

**There is also a line from 'Kissed' somewhere, I'm sure you'll catch it, but I'll say it anyway: it obviously doesn't belong to me. **

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe, who is amazing and wonderful and my greatest supporter. *heart***

* * *

_"I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if (...) two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me."_

_-_ Jane Eyre,_ Charlotte Brontë_

* * *

A few days had passed. September turned to November; the change was unnoticeable to Alec.

Isabelle was growing impatient, she was planning their picnic with feverish excitement: she already had created a perfect menu, as well as ordering Jordan to prepare the phaeton and keep the horses ready. Alec, on the other hand, was completely engrossed by _Magnus. _Between visiting his friend and performing his duties, he didn't really have any space left in his mind to notice changes in the scenery.

Magnus, too, set his foot in the Institute one more time, though he didn't play anymore. Alec was disappointed, of course, but at the same time, he realized that the evening was extraordinary not only in his eyes. Something had been in the air that day, something that had hung between their bodies and mingled with their breaths, something that must have gotten into their lungs and managed to bring them closer to each other.

And then, Magnus' music – it had placed itself between Alec's ribs, sowed a hemp rope there that was connecting him with Magnus. He almost could feel it, making strange, strained, creaking noises, when Magnus was not at his side, away from him. It would be absolutely ridiculous, the whole concept, if it wasn't physically painful.

To add to that, Alec found himself unable to think about Magnus' music for too long. It made his chest hurt, his eyes water and his fingers twitch. Every time he had to fight the instinct to reach for something that wasn't there, and it made him feel hopeless and alone; but at the same time, it caused the feeling of _anticipation_ to twist and turn in his stomach. He knew it would settle down upon seeing Magnus, and it was comforting – to know that his medicine was so close, that Magnus had the ability to cure him. Then again, Magnus was the one who started the 'illness' in the first place, but that seemed to escape Alec's attention. All that mattered was that when Magnus was near him, the butterflies in his stomach were not sickening – they simply meant that he was _happy._

* * *

One day, Alec was summed to Maryse's chambers. He stood right outside his mother's room, and his hand trembled when he raised it to knock on the wooden door.

"Come in," Amatis' voice invited him inside.

What met his eyes was his mother's stern face. She was sitting on a simple, tall chair, her back straight against the hard wood. Amatis was behind her, like a guardian – since when did his mother need one? Maryse's skin was pale, but she did not look unhealthy. Her black hair was arranged in a neat bun on the top of her head, her lips were pursed tightly, making her look severe – but to Alec, she'd never looked more beautiful.

He felt a huge, overwhelming flood of _relief _washing over him, and he realized how much he missed her. And even though he knew there was something terribly wrong with the feeling that followed, he was _ashamed _of his longing. He was not a boy, he was supposed to be a man. His father would despise him – he would think him weak.

So Alec stuck out his chin and, holding his mother's blue, blue gaze, he said, "Mother. It's good to see you." _I'm happy that you are feeling well. _

He half-expected her to say something like, "Don't be sentimental." It'd been so long since he experienced motherly love.

Instead, she responded, "And you, Alexander. You look well."

Oh. He almost half-smiled. She was the one who had been sick, and suddenly it was him who 'looked well'. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as if he needed proof stronger than the one currently sitting in front of him.

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's not the subject of your visit, but your concern has been recognized." He gulped, feeling scolded, and she continued, "Now, tell me: what do I hear about some young man who keeps visiting our house? At first, I thought it was a one-time affair, but then he came back. Who is he?"

Alec let out a disbelieving breath. It was about _Magnus. _He was allowed to see his mother for the first time in a long, long time, and all she wanted from him was to talk about _Magnus. _Right before he grew defensive, he managed to shoot Amatis a betrayed glare – she must have been the one who reported on Magnus' presence. Or maybe his mother had other spies, just like his father.

He braced himself and answered, "He is a friend. _My friend._"

Her eyes were sharp. "What's his name?"

"Bane." Somehow, Magnus' name felt too intimate to share with Maryse.

"Where does he come from?"

"I…" Alec hesitated, "He hasn't shared."

"Alexander." Her pale hands rested flat on her lap. "I need you to collaborate. What are his intentions?"

He felt like he was being interrogated, and how wrong was that? "He means no harm, if that is what you are insinuating."

"Don't get arrogant with me, young man. You may not believe it, but I do look after my children. And I won't tolerate strangers in my home." There was so much dignity in her voice that Alec fought the urge to cower.

"I know," he sighed. "My apologies. I know that you care about us, mother. But I can assure you, mister Bane ceased to be a stranger. He is a friend. I trust him."

Upon hearing this, Maryse looked at him closer. "Those are strong words," she said slowly.

Alec didn't hesitate. Of that, he was certain. "I am aware. And I'm not going to withdraw them."

She seemed to calm down, though she'd never become agitated in a first place. "I do trust your judgement, son. Yet I still wish to meet him. Please bring him to me next time he visits us. You can go now."

The conversation ended as suddenly as it started. Alec turned to leave, feeling numb.

His mother's voice saw him off, "It really was good to see you, Alexander."

He thought he could feel Amatis' pitying gaze on his back. He fought the ridiculous need to shake himself like a dog, in hope to get rid of her eyes on him. Instead, he just closed the door.

* * *

He didn't really think. With his emotions swirling and stumbling over each other, still in fear of spilling over the surface, he stormed out of the house. His steps led him to the stables – apparently, what he needed right now was to feel fresh wind on his face, Demon's strong muscles moving under his thighs, his fingers twined through the black mane, the reins forgotten.

Jordan was nowhere in sight, but Alec didn't need him to saddle up his own horse. He'd known how to do it since he was seven years old – a little boy, who hadn't even been tall enough to mount the enormous stallions that resided in his father's stables.

Demon gave a recognizing neigh when he spotted his master. Alec put one hand on the horse's neck, feeling the steady pulse - he already felt better. He quickly prepared the horse, paying special attention when he fastened the girth, as well as when he placed the bit against Demon's tongue. Then Demon's head collided with his shoulder, gently but determined, encouraging him to finally get on. Alec complied. Having left the doors to the stables widely opened, they dashed out into the moors without any obstacles.

The ride was helping Alec to dull all the feelings that earlier had been making him dizzy with nausea. There was anger, relief, confusion, hurt, longing and among them, an irrational feeling of gratitude. But for now, he didn't have to focus on them: there was only him and his horse, traversing the sea of moors.

He thought that they were riding without a particular destination, yet before he could stop himself, he realized that his subconscious guided him to Idris House. To _Magnus_.

Somewhat reluctantly, he dismounted from his steed. The reins laid slack in his palm, for Demon was close behind him, his giant head almost thrown over Alec's shoulder. The horse was pricking up his ears, nervous and untrusting; his nostrils were flaring. Alec whispered a few reassuring words and, in reply, Demon nibbled at his master's ear, but he also seemed to calm down. Normally, Alec would chuckle, yet this time it didn't happen.

Idris House looked peaceful. It was nearing sunset – the warm rays of the orange sun illuminated the white building, making its walls seem yellowy, inviting.

It was quiet.

The silence that was floating in the air, not interrupted even by the cicadas, was so unlike Magnus that Alec felt weirdly out of place. He felt like the house froze in one random moment, knowing that it was what Alec needed. Like it was adjusting to Alec's mood, being conducted by the master of the house, the fairy prince, who was there to help him, to c_ure _him.

Alec clicked his tongue, beckoning the horse, and together they came up closer, their steps perfectly synchronized.

As if they were being observed before, Ragnor appeared to greet them, just as Alec started wondering in which direction he should go – it was not like Demon could step onto the white stairs and into the house.

"Lord Lightwood!" Alec cringed at the exclamation, just as Ragnor hurried to take Demon by the bridle. "I didn't know master Magnus was expecting you."

"He isn't," Alec said. "Would you take care of my horse? Give him some water, please. I hurried him, quite unnecessarily."

"Of course. Since your rush wasn't needed, I gather that everything is alright? Or was there some sort of an accident?"

"No, nothing of that sort, Ragnor. Your concern is appreciated, though." Alec tried to smile, and knew that it turned out more like a sour grimace. "I can announce myself, right?"

"I'm certain that my master won't mind. He is in the garden." Ragnor showed him in the right direction and left with Demon trailing after him.  
As they were walking away, Alec watched for a moment as the horse's tail waggled from side to side, and he knew Demon well enough to anticipate the following smack at Ragnor's head. The servant let out an indignant yell, and this time Alec allowed himself to half-smile. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, preparing to face Magnus.

He went around the house and to the back. The garden hadn't really changed since he last saw it. It was still wild and unkempt, but today it resembled a fairyland.

Magnus, the prince of every plant in that garden, could be easily spotted by his light clothes. He was wearing a thin white shirt, loose and from what Alec could see, not buttoned up all the way to the neck; a pair of sandy coloured trousers, rolled up so they were exposing his calves. There was a straw hat on his head, with a red ribbon circling the brim. He was standing near a wall of thorns, one would think he was going to fight them, but Alec could swear that Magnus was actually _talking_ to them.

Alec stood there in a patch of the golden sun, not feeling privileged enough to interrupt Magnus.

But Magnus solved the problem for him: without changing his position, he spoke up, "Alexander Lightwood. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He turned around then. There was a grin splayed across his lips, but it quickly faded. "Alexander?" he said the name in a questioning kind of way, and it was coloured with worry.

"Hello, Magnus." Breathless. Relief, impossible relief, mixed with irrational anger and confusion.

"I would say that it's absolutely splendid to see you," Magnus started, having tilted back the brim of his hat, "if something wasn't obviously wrong. What happened?"

There was a fine sheen of sweat above his brow (it was _distracting_, Alec's eyes kept flicking to that spot), and the light of the orange sun was playing on his caramel skin.

Alec felt more of that irrational anger. "Why?" he grunted, "Maybe I just wanted to see you?"

"Did you?" Playfully, disbelievingly, worryingly. Hopefully.

_I needed to see you. _"Yes."

"Don't lie to me, you stubborn creature. You are noticeably upset. Tell me."

Alec slumped his shoulders. He padded towards the nearest stone stairs, and sat down with a heavy sigh.

"It's all about you."

Magnus followed him. "Pardon?"

"Even if it's not, it still _is_." Alec was murmuring to himself, seemingly having forgotten about Magnus presence at his side. Something between his ribs had stopped throbbing.

He just couldn't believe that the only reason his mother had finally decided to see him was Magnus. Oh, but then again, he supposed it was the essence of Magnus: he had the power to shatter worlds, he could change course of events. Alec experienced it first-hand – Magnus had changed _him._

Should Alec be grateful or mad? He snapped his gaze straight ahead. "My mother wishes to meet you," he said.

Magnus didn't answered immediately, and Alec was not willing to check his face for any sign of emotions. Then Magnus said slowly, "It's an honour." Alec winced and Magnus added, "Is that the reason of your foul mood? Do you not want me to meet her?"

"Of course I want you to," Alec huffed. He dabbed at his eyes with his fists. "Will you just do it? Tomorrow?"

"If you want me to."

"Stop saying that. It's not about me." He shook his head. "And no."

"Excuse me?"

"_No_, it's not the thing that got me upset. Besides, I'm not upset. I'm-" Confused. Hurt. Scared. He could feel Magnus shuffle next to him, as if he was getting ready to hear a longer story.

So he told him. He told him about not talking to his mother for nearly two years. About speaking to her the first couple of months, but never getting any answers. He told Magnus about eventually giving up. He confessed how relieved he had felt today, and how he hadn't even thought about being shocked. It was his mother, the most basic and natural person in his world. He quietly spoke of shame and hurt. He admit to being angry, with Magnus, which was stupid, but he assured that it had passed now. He wasn't ready to say just yet what caused his mother to shut down like that, but Magnus – thankfully – didn't ask. He just sat there: patient and radiating understanding. Too much understanding - which would have worried Alec, if he hadn't been that engrossed in his own feelings at that moment.

When Alec was finished, he still had his eyes stubbornly glued to his own lap, just as he'd had throughout the whole speech. Therefore, he more _noticed_ than _felt_ Magnus' hand on his thigh. Then Magnus squeezed his leg, lightly. The touch was supposed to be friendly, comforting – and it was, but it was also _electrifying_. Alec nearly whimpered, but thank Heaven Magnus' next words drowned out the sound anyway.

"I'm thinking of planting some begonias. Or maybe sweet pea?"

Alec let out a breath of relief, all the tension escaping his body. He dropped his head on his friend's shoulder. Magnus smelled of some citrusy stuff: maybe oranges, or cloves, with a tinge of sweat. It was a nice smell.

He closed his eyes. "Yes, I think you should. They'll suit your home."

They sat there for a little while longer, until the sun disappeared behind the horizon completely. A pearly blue darkness surrounded them. The cicadas rang out at once, starting their evening concerto.

Alec opened his eyes and blinked sleepily. "Could I stay here tonight, with you?" he asked and flushed delicately, thanking the twilight for not betraying his embarrassment. He added hastily, "I mean, it's late…"

"Absolutely," Magnus stood up, pulling Alec with him. His hands lingered a little too long on Alec's forearms, making sure that he regained his balance. "You already have your own bedroom here, don't you?"

"I suppose." Alec smiled at him. They headed towards the entrance, groaning quietly at their stiff muscles. "And Magnus?" Magnus turned to look back at him and the moonlight flashed in his green eyes. "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, cuties! :3 I'd like to thank you for the large amount of follows I got after last chapter. It really means the world guys, thank you so much! *hugs you all* Here's a new chapter for you. **

**(Uhh, I know that picnics don't usually take place in November, but... can we ignore it? For the sake of the story :P Also, I'm aware that it's unlike for a common stable boy to work as a coachman, but I wanted to avoid introducing too many not really necessary characters, so we have Jordan instead. Bear with me. I managed to squeeze into this chapter both Jace's fear of ducks and Alec's fear of umbrellas, and it's completely random, but I can't help it, I find it adorable. Also, flower crowns. I couldn't not have a flower crown in my fic, I know it doesn't make sense, don't laugh at me, I was just being silly.)**

**Enjoy! Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe, without whom I'd be as lost as the Moon of Poosh :3**

* * *

Magnus did as Alec had asked of him. The next day, together, they went to the Institute.

Alec came upstairs with Magnus, feeling a slight discomfort that his friend was forced to see the rest of the house under such unpleasant circumstances. However, Magnus seemed quite content to be there: he was all smiles and hands on the small of Alec's back, and Alec didn't know if Magnus really was not nervous at all or if he was keeping this façade for Alec's sake. He was grateful nonetheless, even if it wasn't helping that much.

Magnus waited until Amatis announced him, and then stepped inside the room. Right before he disappeared behind the door, he sent Alec a warm, solid smile. Alec tried to respond with a similar action, but before he could muster up enough confidence to move the right muscles, the door was closed.

He slowly slid down the wall and sat on the floor. He couldn't hear anything from his spot – besides, eavesdropping was considered a rude behaviour – but he w_anted _to be here.

Minutes were passing by, and with the passage of time, Alec's restlessness grew. He once again started to feel uneasy, and then, _foolish._ Sitting there outside Maryse's room, his leg bumping up and down and his hands twining and untwining, he felt like a boy seeking a girl's hand in marriage, waiting for an acceptance from her parents and an allowance to come in. And how absolutely stupid was that? Of course he could relate, in some way, but it was a far-fetched comparison – as a young, well-mannered gentleman, he sought his mother's acceptance of his friends, however, it was not as if his life depended on it. He was also, as a young, well-mannered gentleman, perfectly capable of picking his own friends (or, as one could say, being picked by them).

He tried to calm himself with deep, even breaths, but then the doors opened and Magnus came into his view. He looked as if he was deep in thought: his head was down, his eyes fixated on the floor. His forehead was probably creased, but it was hidden behind the curtain of his black hair.

"Magnus?" Alec spoke up, prompting his companion to s_ay something. _

Magnus' gaze snapped to him as if he didn't expect him to still be there or as if he'd completely forgotten about him.

"Alexander." Those were frantic, panicked eyes. And if Alec had thought earlier that Magnus' pensive look meant that his thoughts were at peace, it was all gone now. There was the same feverishness in his voice, in that single word, his name.

Alec reached out his hand and circled his fingers around Magnus' wrist. Magnus' gaze followed the movement and then flicked up to Alec's eyes.

"I…" he gulped. "Alexander. There's something…"

Alec squeezed his hand reassuringly, and it must have worked as an anchor, because Magnus closed his eyes for a second and let out a long breath. When his eyelids lifted, the colours in his eyes: the gold and green, were calm again.

He shook his head, and with that gesture, he had shaken off Alec's touch as well. "Forgive me," he cleared his throat, and he didn't seem to notice Alec's confused expression. He continued, "Would you… describe your mother as a woman of her word?"

Alec stared. "Why?" Was that what Magnus intended to say earlier? "Are you asking me if my mother is an honourable woman? She is."

"Good," Magnus sighed. Alec thought he saw something glisten in his eyes, but Magnus blinked, and it was gone. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going."

Alec almost let out a pathetic _what? _Instead, he watched Magnus walk away. When his friend was almost out of his sight, he asked loudly after him, "I'll see you tomorrow, right?" (Not that the hope in his voice and the raw_ need_ weren't any less pathetic.) Magnus stopped. He didn't turn around fully, but by the slight inclination of his head Alec knew that he was listening. "On the picnic? With my siblings?"

"Yes, of course," Magnus finally answered, still not looking at him. His voice was small, apparently he didn't feel like shouting – he wasn't as desperate as Alec. "I'll be there."

Then he was gone.

* * *

Luckily, the day of the picnic was quite bright. The Lightwood siblings and mister Bane agreed to meet at ten in the morning. The sun was still hidden behind thin, pearly grey clouds, but they all happily predicted that it would show itself shortly after noon.

The phaeton was already waiting for them on the forecourt. A pair of horses had been harnessed to the coach, one of them was Demon. Jordan was sitting on the coachman box, and from time to time he would click his tongue at the mare, which kept nibbling at Demon's neck and trying to annoy him. Demon was poking at the gravel with his horseshoe – he didn't like being harnessed, he was much better-behaved under a saddle and guided by Alec's hand.

Isabelle and Alec appeared on the front steps first. Alec was lugging a huge picnic basket after Isabelle, who was walking with her usual grace and giggling at her brother. Simon had offered his help, but Alec had waved him off – something he was quickly starting to regret.

"Izzy," he grunted, "what on Earth did you pack there?"

"Things," she said with a pretty smile. "Food. Wine. Blankets. Something to read."

"And that 'something' is probably the size of _The Iliad, _am I right?"

"Oh, brother. How amusing you are today." They rolled their eyes simultaneously, and smiled at each other.

They looked like twins today. Both bright and beautiful, and happy. Alec was wearing a pearly grey tailcoat, a waistcoat of the same colour and a white shirt under, and a pair of light-coloured trousers. There was a bunch of forget-me-nots in his boutonnière, given to him by his sister, who said it would bring out the colour of his eyes. His cravat was grey, as was his leather gloves and shoes. He forgot a hat, again, but today wasn't about being uptight and formal.

Isabelle was wearing a muslin dress, ecru-coloured, with a lace ruche across her bosom. Her hair was loose today, only a couple of pins arranging the strands near her temples. She had a wide-brimmed hat decorated with red lilies, and a lace umbrella in her hand. There was a warm shawl draped over her white shoulders.

Jordan jumped off his seat to take the picnic basket from Alec and deposit it in the front. He moved to help miss Isabelle climb into the phaeton, but Alec passed him. He held out his hand for Isabelle to lean on, and when she was seated, she smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

Alec bowed playfully. "Anytime, miss." He then leaned against the side of the coach. They were waiting for Jace and Magnus to appear.

Soon, Magnus indeed came into their view.

Alec was dreading that moment. He didn't know what to expect after yesterday's abrupt parting. But there he was – Magnus Bane, walking towards them with a spring in his step, whistling and being magnificent. His face _lit up _when he finally noticed Alec watching him, and he bent in half in a pompous obeisance. Alec chuckled.

Magnus' attire, as always, was quite extravagant. His tailcoat was absent. His trousers were deep green, his waistcoat in a colour of an aubergine. He was wearing a shirt with a lace jabot and cuffs that were seemingly too long, hiding half of this hand. Alec was vaguely aware, mainly thanks to Isabelle, that the French fashion had passed, but it didn't seem to apply to Magnus. It suited him.

"Good morning, Miss Isabelle, Alexander." Magnus bowed at them in order, with a smile that was scrunching up his nose and causing crinkles to appear in the corners of his eyes.

Alec felt an irrational flare of jealously at the fact that Magnus greeted his sister first. It was only appropriate, because she was a lady, and besides, Magnus called _him _by his name and without any unnecessary titles, but still. It wasn't enough.

"Where is Jace?" Alec murmured towards Isabelle, without tearing his eyes off of Magnus.

"Where indeed." Isabelle shifted in her spot, gathering her skirts closer to her in order to prepare some space for the gentlemen. "I think it's a disgrace that Jace is taking longer than me, and I am a woman."

Alec tried to hide his smile against his shoulder, but failed when he saw Magnus grinning.

Finally, Jace ran down the stairs, Church closely on his heels.

"Hello, little friend," Alec murmured, having crouched, and brushed his fingers through the dog's coat.

"Pleasure to see you too, brother," Jace said mockingly. Alec looked up at him. His brother was all gold and white, sand and lavender, and contagious smiles. "Pardon my sluggishness," Jace added.

They all climbed into the phaeton: Alec dragged by his sister to her side, Magnus opposite him, leaving Jace in front of Isabelle.

Jace rapped his knuckles against the side of the coach. "We can go, Jordan!"

They set off; Church ran after them. The wind was sharp against their faces, and Alec noticed Magnus patting his hair from time to time, as if he was afraid it would ruin the silkiness of his black locks. He tried not to smile fondly.

The two of them were sitting directly opposite each other and it would be difficult to avoid each other's eyes – if they wanted to, but they had no such wish. At first, Alec tried to keep his gaze on the landscapes unfolding in front of them. But he knew them well, and besides, he could practically _feel _Magnus' stare on the side of his face. He glanced back, and his assumptions turned out to be correct – Magnus was looking at him all that time. He didn't grow tired of that little game they were playing: he would catch Magnus staring, and it was _thrilling _that the other man didn't get bashful; he would hold Alec's eyes, and s_mirk. _Once, he shuffled in his spot, keeping his eyelids half-closed; his ankle accidently rubbed against Alec's ankle and Alec nearly jumped. Then Magnus looked him right in the eye and licked his lips, apparently dried by the wind and sun. The following grin was downright _predatory. _

It wasn't hard to breathe at the speed they were going, but suddenly Alec felt like his lungs were burning.

There wasn't enough room left between his and Magnus' legs – in fact, Magnus had to slightly spread his in order to let Alec fit between them. Their shoes were probably lined up, but he was too afraid to peek down and check himself, but if he would shuffle his foot a little to one side he could… His shoe gently touched some unidentified part of Magnus' body and he lifted his eyes. Magnus' expression was _warm. _There was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and even though Alec's ribcage still felt too small to let him take a proper breath, he relaxed – without moving a bit.

After twenty minutes or so of comfortable silence, Jace spoke up, "Where are we going?"

"How nice of you to ask," Isabelle perked up. "We are going to have lunch nearby the ruins of a castle," she said smugly. "Maybe we can explore later."

"That castle, is it haunted?" Jace asked, seemingly bored.

Magnus joined the conversation, "You shouldn't make fun of ghosts, Lightwood." There was a mocking half-smile on his face, but his tone was serious. "They can be dangerous, demonic. And very real."

"Oh yes?" Jace raised his brow. "Well, my brother and I can beat them." He stretched his arm to shove at Alec's knee and the eldest Lightwood grinned.

Magnus' expression changed to neutral. All he said was, "Oh, I should hope so."

Soon after, they reached their destination. Jace got off first and he took the picnic basket from Jordan. Then Magnus, who helped Isabelle by holding out his hand. When it was Alec's turn, Magnus grabbed his shoulder, and his 'help' caused Alec to nearly trip over. He flushed and muttered under his breath, "You shouldn't have done that." Magnus didn't say anything in return.

They arrived at a small birch grove. The trees had already turned from vivid green to warm yellows, oranges and browns. The wild grass and moss was soft beneath their shoes. The air smelled of fresh dark-brown soil and rain. There was a pond nearby, its surface glistening from time to time from behind the spare trees. They arranged their blankets on a small clearing – everything being conducted by Isabelle – a couple of hundred meters away from their coach. They couldn't see the ruins from the spot they had chosen, but Isabelle assured them that they were close.

"Do you want to eat now?" Isabelle asked, after she seated herself on one of the blankets. Her skirts were carefully arranged around her, as if she'd actually taken to heart Alec's grumbling and now she was going to expose nothing more than maybe the tip of her red shoe.

"It's still quite early," Alec stated. "I think I'll play with Church for a while." He eyed Isabelle's umbrella suspiciously, as if he wanted to say, _Get this away from me, woman. _

Jace said he would join them. Church was an old dog, but he still was willing to play 'fetch' with his masters.

"Magnus?" Alec stopped mid-step, after they found a stick for Church and were ready to move aside, not wanting to disturb the lady. "You want to…?"

"No, thank you." Magnus waved his hand. "I would like to keep miss Isabelle company, if she doesn't mind."

"Oh, not at all." Isabelle leaned over Magnus' shoulder. She was speaking from under her umbrella, and there were small dots of light on her face, in the places where the sunrays managed to break through the lace patterns.

"Alright," Alec said and ran towards Jace.

They started playing. Church barked when it took them too long to throw the stick, and they laughed at his eagerness. Soon, all the exercises caused Alec to start sweating, and he and Jace stripped off of their tailcoats. It wasn't actually hot; the air was humid and thick and it made their limbs feel heavier, made sweat pool on their temples and in the hollows of their collarbones.

From time to time, Alec would glance in the direction of his sister and Magnus. They seemed to be immersed in some sort of conspiratorial conversation. Magnus was nodding, and Alec couldn't quite see his face, but he was guessing that his friend was wearing a serious expression. Isabelle, on the other hand, had her warrior determination written across her face. It wasn't a look associated with a lady, and usually it was hard to read hidden behind a mask of sweetness and fluttering eyelashes, but Alec knew his sister well. And he knew that expression. He wondered what they were talking about.

In that moment, something thin but hard collided with his arm and then he was tackled to the ground by a grey shape.

"Church!" Alec yelled, when he recognized the lump in his throat as Church's coat. He spluttered as the dog licked his face. "Jace, what the hell?!"

Jace was standing across the clearing, laughing so hard that he had to put his arms around himself. When he finally took notice of Alec's red face, he jogged towards them. "Oh God, Alec, that was hilarious," he breathed, still chuckling. "You should have seen your face. Priceless."

"Ha ha." He moved to stand up, but Jace plopped down in a spot beside him.

"Well, that will teach you to pay attention when you are playing against two beasts," he grinned and patted Church on the head, who lay down next to them.

"I didn't realize I was _against _you two," Alec murmured, but he wasn't mad anymore. He wasn't mad in the first place, more like shocked. He ruffled his hair and a few crumbled, orange leaves fell to the ground.

Comfortable silence fell between them, disturbed only by their heavy breathing. Alec started playing with a blade of grass, letting it shift between his fingers. It was smooth against his skin. Jace's presence at his side was radiant, familiar, safe. His golden aura: his warmth, his breath, his smell; engulfed Alec. And it was _nice._ He missed it, he missed his brother. But they were grown up men now, both busy with different duties with less time for each other.

Once their breathing evened out a little, Jace spoke up, "So. That friend of yours?"

Alec straighten up and he looked at Jace quizzically. "Magnus?" Of course Jace was speaking about Magnus. It was not like Alec had any other friends beyond his family or that weren't old men, or – and he didn't even know if Jace counted them – servants.

Jace nodded. "Is he treating you well?"

"He is." Alec smiled delicately. "I wouldn't let him 'treat' me any other way."

Jace grumbled something under his breath. "Alright. Just, he better not give me any reason to challenge him to a duel."

Alec quirked his brow. "Oh yeah? And what would you fight with? Rapiers?"

"Mmm, I don't know. Have you found out yet how good of a shot he is? If not, please do. It may become of use some day."

Alec gave up first – Jace's poker face was just hilarious – he laughed and shook his head. "No, seriously, stop. Firstly, there won't be any duels in the future. Secondly, in what century do you live? You are not a French musketeer. And last but not least, I can defend myself, should the need arise. But it won't. Nonetheless, the sentiment is appreciated, brother."

Jace rolled his eyes, the seriousness gone. "Alright, but don't ever say that I didn't offer." He wiped his hands on his thighs. "I'm starving. Shall we join them?"

They stood up to reunite with Isabelle and Magnus.

"Tired?" Isabelle asked with a smile, making room for them on the blankets.

"Hungry," Jace replied, grinning lopsidedly. He patted his stomach as if trying to emphasize his answer.

They started eating (Isabelle put aside some of the food for Jordan to give it to him after they were finished). It turned out, Isabelle had many delicious titbits hidden in the picnic basket. There were petite sandwiches and cold meat, various kind of fruits: grapes, green apples, plums, and oranges. There were also biscuits and pastries that tasted like cloudlets. They drank red wine from the Lightwoods' well-stocked cellars.

Once their stomachs were full (except Isabelle's – she ate like a bird, as good manners required from a lady), they moved closer to the trees, wishing to hide themselves in a shadow. Alec seated himself with his back to a tree, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Jace remained alert, and his frantic expression was giving Alec signals: _Keep your eyes open. There may be ducks plotting an assassination here. _Isabelle, having treated their stableman with lunch, occupied herself with a book. She didn't offer to read aloud for them – they were comfortable listening to the trills of birds, the rustling sound of wind in the trees crowns, and each other's content breathing. Magnus lay down, using Alec's tailcoat as a pillow, but he couldn't get comfortable. In the end, he crawled towards Alec and sat under the same tree, yet not c_lose enough – _he stayed partly hidden by the trunk. Finally, Alec let himself close his eyes (obviously ignoring Jace's obsessive warnings).

After a while, he started shivering slightly. He'd been hot after playing with Church and Jace, but now, when the wind dried his damp skin and the sweat cooled down, he was starting to get cold.

"Hey, Magnus?" he murmured, having opened one eye. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes," came a grumpy answer.

Alec grinned to himself. "Do you mind giving back my tailcoat? I hate to ruin your nest, but I'm cold."

Magnus' head appeared before him and Alec opened his eyes fully. Seeing Magnus' lovely tousled hair, he felt something similar to guilt starting to unfurl behind his sternum. He rushed to say, "I'm sorry, it's just…"

"It's fine," Magnus cut him off. He handed Alec his tailcoat and Alec quickly put it on, already feeling warmer. But that could be because of a familiar citrusy smell that hit his nostrils as soon as he inhaled. He nearly purred in pleasure.

However, it turned out that Magnus wasn't done. "It's fine if…" His movement was so abrupt and graceful that it caught Alec off guard: he slid down and put his head on Alec's lap, making himself comfortable. With his eyes closed, he finished, "…if you let me use this as a pillow. Can I stay here?"

Alec forgot to breathe. He choked out, "Is it comfortable?"

"Mhm, very much."

"Alright," he huffed, delivering oxygen to his lungs. "Then you can stay."

Magnus murmured something, satisfied, and soon his chest was rising and falling rhythmically.

Alec stared at the greenery in front of him, barely breathing, until he was sure that Magnus fell asleep. Then he mustered up enough courage to look down. Magnus' face was peaceful when he was sleeping. His forehead was smooth, his lips parted slightly, his hair scattered on the material of Alec's trousers. Alec lifted his hand and before he could stop to think or hesitate – would such gesture cross the boundary between friendship and… what, exactly? – he twined his fingers into Magnus' black strands. They were soft and silky, and it was a comfortable and _natural _position for his hand. He exhaled, letting his eyelids drop.

* * *

By the time they finished napping, it was well past midday. However, the sun didn't appear as they hope it would – in fact, the sky turned darker, gloomier. Heavy clouds that had looked harmless in their fluffy white shapes in the morning, now started rolling over their heads.

Alec jerked completely awake when Isabelle called out his name. Upon experiencing the sudden movement under his head, Magnus blinked his eyes open and then, taking in Alec's face, he slowly got up.

Alec wanted to say something, to scream for him not to go, but the pure _terror _on his face said everything that Magnus needed to hear. Alec was terrified at the thought that someone – it didn't matter if it was his beloved sister – could see them in such a position.

"Magnus…" Alec started, his tone verging on pleading.

Magnus stretched out, and looked down at Alec with his arms above his head. "We should get back."

They weren't even _away _in the first place, just hidden from sight under the tree branches, in the shadows.

Alec sighed. He held out his hand, waiting for Magnus to help him get back on his feet. It was kind of a peace offering (and why did Alec feel a need to make such gesture in the first place?) – if Magnus would twine their fingers together, or grab his wrist, or just haul him up by his elbow, it would mean that they were _fine. _That nothing had changed between them.

Magnus did take his hand: his skin was warmed by sleep and very soft; and Alec let out a breath of relief. He stood up and if Magnus kept him locked in his grip for a little while longer than necessary, then Alec did not notice. Or maybe he did, and thought that _something _did change between them after all. Something small, which they acknowledged and accepted as completely natural. Or something large that just felt _right._

"Oh. Hello, boys," Izzy greeted them after they came into a view from their secret place. She was walking in circles around Jace, apparently wishing to stretch her legs, while Church was getting under her feet. Jace was preoccupied with the book that Isabelle was previously reading. "I just wanted to tell you that we shall leave soon." Her look travelled from Alec to Magnus, then back. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything...?"

"No," Alec said. "But we would like to explore those ruins." He sent Magnus a glance, trying to communicate with him without words and praying that he didn't actually say something like: _What on earth are you talking about, Alexander? _"Do you think we still have time?"

"Oh yes. But we won't be coming with you."

"That's alright," he said, carefully not slipping in any of the gratefulness he was feeling. It would be rude. He just _needed s_ome more time alone with Magnus. After the way they woke up: with Alec's hand tangled in Magnus' hair, and Magnus' face pressed against Alec's stomach; the way they were jerked back to reality just seemed too abrupt. Alec didn't really feel the need to _talk _about it, he just wished to make it… right.

They set off (Alec wasn't actually confident that Magnus would follow him, but it turned out he needn't worry). When they were out of earshot, Alec turned around and extended his hand.

"Walk with me?" he asked, hopefully.

Magnus took his hand, using it to help himself climb up a small hill. "You didn't give me a choice back there, not really."

"Oh." Alec's hand fell to his side. "Do you not want to? We could turn back…?"

"No, not now. I'm actually curious about those ruins." They walked side by side, simply enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Magnus became very excited. "Oh, I could make you a flower crown!" Before Alec could protest, Magnus bent down and started picking the little flowers that lay under their feet. There were daisies, most of them white, and a couple of pink ones were scattered among them.

Alec let out a resigned sigh (coloured with fondness, because who else over seven years old would be that excited about making a flower crown?), while Magnus kept getting more flowers as the crown was starting to actually take shape.

Soon, the castle came into their view. It was situated in a small valley beneath them. Only three walls remained of what must have once been a medieval fortress. They were made of stone and were in really bad shape, but they both gasped in rapture upon seeing them. There was something mighty about the building in front of them, something solemn and haunted.

Magnus hastily put the flower crown on Alec's head, and it came askew. He patted Alec's hair to keep it in place and to admire his artwork, and then he cried out, "Let's race!"

He darted down the hill and Alec just stood there with his mouth open.

He was about to follow him, in his own reasonable pace, when suddenly he saw Magnus fall. Then he heard a scream – Magnus' scream – and all his thoughts about being reasonable flew out of his head.

He was at Magnus' side within seconds. His friend was sitting on the grass, with an expression of agony on his face. He was clutching at his right ankle, panting between short moans of pain.

"I must have stepped in a wrong way," Magnus said through gritted teeth. "I think my ankle is sprained."

Alec knelt at his friend's side, knowing exactly what he should be doing with his hands, but at the same time wanting to put them all around Magnus: to shield him, protect him, comfort him. "Are you certain it's not broken?" He gently moved Magnus' hands aside and examined his ankle carefully.

Magnus winced when the pressure became too much, but he didn't scream again – it was a good sign.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Magnus shook his head. "Alright. Let's get you up. Can you walk?"

He threw one of Magnus' arm over his shoulders and then put his own arm around his waist. He pulled Magnus to his feet, but when they were both standing up, Magnus quickly protested.

"Ow, no, no, no." He put all his weight on his second leg, leaning heavily over Alec's side. "I don't think I can do that. I'm sorry."

Alec tightened his grip. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I'll carry you, then."

Magnus actually rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, _no_. You are not allowed. I'm not heavy, but I'm not going to let you c_arry _me."

Alec ignored him. Without problems, he picked Magnus up, of course being careful about his ankle.

"I forbid you," Magnus protested weakly.

It was as if Alec didn't hear him at all. "Put your hands around my neck," he commanded. Then he added softly, "Please."

Magnus did as he was told. They started walking back and he kept trying not to wince with Alec's every step. After a while, Alec felt the grip around his neck loosen. He worriedly looked down at the face of the man in his arms.

"Magnus? Are you still with me?" Magnus' face was pale, but his forehead was glistening with sweat. His eyes were closed, his eyelids seemed thin and blue, and there were purple, bruise-like shadows already forming under his eyes. Short, hot puffs of air were escaping his parted lips, and Alec could felt them through the material of his clothes. He lay as still and inert as a ragdoll in Alec's arms.

"Mhm," Magnus managed to murmur and Alec almost staggered at the feel of relief that flooded over him. "I feel odd."

"Talk to me." Alec tried to increase his speed.

"You are s_o _strong," Magnus mumbled. He made a move like he wanted to nestle deeper into Alec's arms, but it turned out he didn't have enough strength.

Alec's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but then he noticed Magnus' small, lopsided smile. With his brows creased, he leaned down, at the same time putting Magnus a little higher in his arms. Such position allowed him to lean his cheek over Magnus' forehead – he was burning.

"And you are delirious," he murmured in reply, though Magnus probably couldn't hear him by now.

He was back in the clearing in a matter of minutes. Isabelle and Jace both sprang to their feet as soon as they noticed him, carrying a nearly unconscious Magnus in his arms.

"What happened?" Isabelle asked loudly, running to his side. "Is he hurt?"

"Later, Iz, I'll explain later. He's going to be fine, but I need to get him a doctor. Quickly, tell Jordan to bring the carriage here."

She ran off, and Alec looked over to Jace. "Jordan will be back for you. I need to get home as fast as I can. "

Jace nodded. "Understood."

They quickly climbed into the phaeton. Alec seated Magnus so he was leaning over his side, and his injured leg was in a seat opposite them. He tucked Magnus' head under his chin and ordered, "Go, Jordan. Go as fast as if the devil himself was chasing after us."

The horses set off with ominous neighing. They were going at an amazing speed. Jordan kept cracking the whip (never actually touching the animals) and shouting at them encouragingly. All Alec could hear was the howl of the wind in his ears. He kept his arms tightly locked around Magnus' frame, the fingers of his hand splayed across Magnus' chest, in a place where his heartbeat was easily traceable. Before he could register the gesture, he placed a chaste kiss at Magnus' temple. He wondered absentmindedly why the hair under his cheek was wet. Then he realized: he didn't notice at first that it started raining. Now the raindrops felt like whiplash against their skin. They were heavy and cold and unforgiving.

In a matter of seconds, Magnus started shivering. He was also impossibly warm at Alec's side. Without hesitation, Alec started taking off his tailcoat. As he was putting it over Magnus' pliant shoulders, he mumbled grumpily, just to have something to occupy his brain with.

"Why do you must insist on wearing those stupid, beautiful clothes that have no practical application except making you look ridiculously attractive…?"

Magnus moaned softly in response. He nosed at Alec's clothes and sighed. "Mmm, smells so nice…"

Alec was too worried to blush. Soon, his waistcoat and dress shirt and undershirt were completely soaked. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his arms felt like ice frozen around Magnus.

Jordan was driving like a madman. Alec should reward his stableman's commitment, maybe he would give him a day off soon. They stopped at the Institute within twenty minutes.

Alec jumped down from the coach, taking Magnus with him. He was acting mechanically by now, without registering the cold (raindrops on his skin) or the heat (Magnus' body) or the tiredness (tugging at his muscles). All he felt was worry. And fear. (_I can't lose him. I can't lose him. God, don't let me lose him.) _Deep down, he knew he was over-reacting, but the panic was not so easily contained.

Jordan passed him on their way to the door. He opened it before them, inviting the ominous weather inside. Simon and Maia appeared at their side immediately. Alec still wouldn't let Magnus go from his arms.

"Simon, bring the medic. Tell him it's an emergency and I need him. Now!" When Simon hurried outside, Alec turned to Jordan, but the boy was already gone. Alec briefly thought of his siblings, and he hoped that Jace and Isabelle managed to find a shelter before the downpour of rain. Then he said to Maia, who was looking at him worriedly, "Go to Idris House. You'll find a man there, his name is Ragnor. Please let him know that his master is here. And that he will be staying." _Because I'm not going to let him out of my sight._

* * *

**That was such a dirty-_Sense and Sensibility-_trick, I'm terrible... But now Magnus is going to spend some time in Alec's house *rubs hands together* Huh, my priorities are so twisted... **

**Hope you liked it! Please leave a review if you can xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I know guys, I suck. And I'm so, so sorry for the lateness. You have no idea how bad it makes me feel that I made you wait, especially that you were so freaking amazing after last chapter. Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews, you are all great. You make my day birghter and you make me so happy :) I love you allllll *squishes* (And I know I've been terrible to you, but if you could keep it up, that would be awesome. Your enthusiasm is what keeps me writing!)**

**Special amount of love for my beta, ChaseThisLightWithMe :3 She's phenomenal. **

**(There are two lines in this chapter that I borrowed from City of Lost Souls. They're from one scene, between Izzy and Magnus, when they talk about Alec, and that 'blood isn't love'. I don't own those.) **

* * *

The nervous wait for the doctor's arrival began. The Institute doors had closed after the servants, leaving Alec alone with his frantic thoughts, an unresponsive Magnus, and with no place for idleness.

He hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time; which almost caused Magnus to slip from his arms. They were both soaking wet, cold, and Alec's fingers were numb – it was getting more and more difficult to keep Magnus in a safe position. Fortunately, Alec soon reached the guest bedrooms. He quickly decided that the room closest to his would be the best choice given their current situation.

The inside was covered in dust and gloom. It was already nearing twilight, and the rainclouds added to the impression of endless darkness gathering around the Institute. The room was cold, the fireplace was obviously empty – it was not like the Lightwoods had been expecting any visitors. The maids dusted the place from time to time, to keep it ready for any occasion, but it looked like the last time they did it was at least a couple of weeks ago.

Just as Alec was wondering if he should deposit Magnus on the bed first and risk getting the sheets wet (and changing them later), Amatis came into the room.

"I'll change him into something clean." She gestured for Alec to seat Magnus on a chair. He gently put his friend down and cradled his head in his palms to keep it from falling to the side. Amatis kept bustling around the room in a flurry of dust and murmured orders. "You, my lord, go get some wood and candles. Quickly!"

He stood there for a moment, unmoving, until she turned her back on him and started unbuttoning Magnus' vest, getting to work regardless of Alec's answer. He left, without wondering if maybe he should have stopped her, forbid her from doing it, because she was a woman and she shouldn't be looking at a naked man that wasn't her husband.

He was back within minutes. One look across the room told him that Magnus had been dried off, and put to bed: he was lying still, safely tucked under a duvet; his hair scattered across a pillow.

Alec walked towards the fireplace and knelt down, letting the wood fall from his arms and rattle against the floor.

"Here, little lord, let me do this," Amatis appeared at his side, her hand on his shoulder. She spoke in soft, comforting tones, yet at the same time it was a voice that brooked no argument.

He looked up at her, feeling completely lost. He touched a piece of wood and it was coarse against his skin. Finally, he responded, "Alright." Quietly.

"Light up some candles for the doctor," she said to him before kneeling down to set the fire.

He moved around the room without a sound, numbly. Soon, there were shadows trembling around the room, and everything started shaking in a very nauseating manner. "What did you change him into?" he asked quietly after lighting another candle.

"One of your nightgowns, little lord. It's warm and _dry_, it will definitely do him good."

Alec cringed at the mental image that appeared in his head: Magnus, looking impossibly pale, wrapped in a white cloth. He wouldn't like the colour, he was going to be absolutely horrified when he woke up.

Alec padded towards the bed and sat on the edge. He observed Magnus' chest rising and falling slowly, without rhythm, as if the heavy duvet was too much for him to bear. He leaned forward to brush a strand from his forehead, and his hand lingered on his still slightly damp hair.

In that moment, the doctor burst into the room. He was an older man, a figure well-known and highly respected. There were glasses on his nose, and they were foggy, but apart from that, he looked fine; his clothes were dry. He was carrying a case of doctor's instruments.

Alec didn't move from his spot. "Hello, Doctor Blackwell," he said. "Thank you for arriving without a delay."

"Your man was really persistent, lord Lightwood." The doctor stopped at Magnus' bed. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."

Alec recounted the events. He described the fall and the results of his own, however unprofessional, examination. He expressed his worry over Magnus' reaction, fighting with the panic threatening to seize his voice, and asked, "Is it normal?"

"Certainly not," the doctor stated. "I'm going to examine the patient now. I must ask you to leave the room."

Alec had stood up earlier, but upon hearing the doctor's wish, he stopped abruptly. "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was steady.

"Lord Lightwood!" The doctor's face turned red with indignation. "I insist you come to your senses! Nobody is allowed in this room until I'm finished."

Amatis' hand appeared on Alec's elbow out of nowhere – he thought she would be gone by now. "Come, my lord. The doctor needs space."

Alec, led by his mother's maid, obediently left the room.

"You should change your clothes, my lord," Amatis said when they stepped outside, out of the doctor's earshot.

"No. I'm not leaving here."

"It won't do any good to mister Bane if you catch a cold. Or pneumonia."

"I'm fine, Amatis. I will be fine." Alec shook his head. "Thank you for your help, you can go now."

The woman sighed. "As you wish, my lord."

Alec turned to the door. He let his head fall against the wood, and a dull _thud _resounded in his skull. He stood there, with his forehead touching the flat surface and the rest of his body slack in his hopelessness, for God only knew how long.

After a while – hours, days, decades, eons – a quiet voice spoke up, "My lord?"

Without opening his eyes – Alec didn't even realize he had closed them in the first place – he answered, "Yes, Maia?" It was Isabelle's maid. It meant she had returned from Idris House.

"I thought it might help a little."

He turned to look at her. Maia was clutching a mug in her small, brown hands. The steam from a drink would cause her curly hair to form into ringlets, if it wasn't already tucked neatly under a white bonnet.

He felt a surge of _gratitude _washing over him. It was such a sweet gesture: she thought about him in that sour time and made him tea. It didn't matter that the drink was served in a clay mug, instead of being offered on a silver tray. Alec took it with thanks on his lips.

"It will help warm you up, my lord."

He shivered violently as she said it. When the hot drink started to permeate his body, he suddenly remembered how cold he was. The blood began flowing through his veins anew, but his teeth clattered against each other, and his body was being rocked by shivers.

After a moment he noticed that she was watching him with wide, _amused _eyes. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly insecure.

She gestured with her hand in the direction of his head. "You have… My lord, there are flowers in your hair."

Alec let out a puff of air, and he almost smiled when she giggled. "Oh, yes. I forgot about it." He reached for it and then looked at the flowers in his hand. They were wet, flat and lifeless. Sad. He gently placed the remains of the flower crown in his pocket.

"Have my siblings come back?" he asked after a moment, between small sips of his tea. The previous furious gulps were beneficial, but they hurt his throat.

"Just moments ago, my lord. And before you ask," Alec indeed opened his mouth to say something, "they are both perfectly fine. After Amatis gathered us all in the kitchen – it's very hot there, so miss Isabelle and master Jace were able to warm themselves – she informed us about current situation. I believe they will be coming upstairs soon. In fact, I really must go. Miss Isabelle will need me."

"Of course," Alec nodded. Maia held out her hand for his empty mug and then he realized that, indeed, it was empty. He returned it and thanked her again. Then she hurried down the corridor, disappearing from his sight.

Jace was going to be there any minute (Isabelle's bedroom, as any lady's bedroom, was situated in the opposite wing of the mansion). Alec wondered briefly what his brother would think of all that _distress, _and _fear, _and _panic _written across his face. He was calmer now, a little bit, but he also had a feeling that the frantic lines had ploughed themselves into his skin and he would never be able to get rid of them; they would stay with him forever. But then the door to Magnus' room opened, and the doctor invited him inside, washing all petty digressions away from Alec's head.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that it wasn't really wise to talk about the patient's condition in the room where he was situated. But then he realized that Magnus must still be unconscious. Regardless, they stopped in a far corner of the room, by a window, in order not to disturb the man's dreams.

"First and foremost," the doctor started, "mister Bane will be just fine. All he needs is rest now." Alec's knees buckled underneath him and he had to grab onto the windowsill in order not to fall. _Oh God, thank you. _"His ankle is sprained, it's nothing lethal. It wasn't dislocated, none of the bones were fractured. I have immobilized the joint, there shouldn't be any complications. The patient just needs to stay in bed in order not to strain his leg. I recommend three weeks under kind supervision." The doctor peered at him over his glasses. "Will you be able to take care of him, sir?"

Alec nodded vigorously. "Yes, absolutely."

The man's face was stern, his lips pressed together into a thin line. There was something more. "Oh, he will be in need of c_aring. _Like I said, his reaction was not normal." He took a deep breath, as if he wanted to add more drama to the situation and give Alec a heart attack, and then he started to explain. "Dear sir, mister Bane is _exhausted. _His body decided to give out today, but it has been overstrained for much longer. He probably doesn't sleep that much, forgets to eat, works too hard, am I right? Does he have anyone to watch over him, tell him to go to bed when it's time?"

Alec shook his head. "I… I don't know. There is his servant, Ragnor, but I don't think he… _interferes_ much."

"Well, he should have. Though I suppose mister Bane just needs a wife."

Alec froze. "Excuse me?"

"Uh," the older man actually looked _bashful,_ "a woman would keep an eye on him, make sure he… spends enough time in bed. If," the doctor cleared his throat, "if you know what I mean, sir. I didn't intend to sound vulgar."

All the colours drained from Alec's face. Suddenly, he felt nauseous. "What can I do?" he asked in a small voice, wishing to ban those terrible, painful images from his head. Magnus getting married, starting a family, living in domesticity and colourful happiness. It had never occurred to Alec before. He hadn't known that Magnus would want it, _need _it. (He, personally, never thought about it. At least not longer than necessary. He knew it would happen one day, it was his duty after all – he was an heir, and he had to keep the family line from dying out. Yet, he never _desired s_uch life.) But if that was what was best for his friend, why did it seem so horrifying to Alec? He didn't want to think about it. Not right now, not ever.

The doctor continued, "One could say that the accident acted like… a catalyst, of some sort. The weakness of mister Bane's body in the moment of injury allowed other problems to become apparent. Mister Bane gave up fighting and the fever started to do it for him. He was burning up, and his temperature hasn't lowered that much since then. You'll need to keep an eye on that, sir. He may be delirious for the next few hours: he is going to float on a surface of reality and dip into his dreams in turns. It would be better if the servants don't take to heart anything he has to say for a while."

"There won't be any servants," Alec cut in. "I'm going to look after him personally. I'll sit by him."

The doctor raised a brow. "Well then. There is one more thing. England weather takes getting used to. I gather mister Bane doesn't react well to sudden downpours, as well as he obviously doesn't take physical pain well. Where he comes from, he must have lived like a prince."

Alec looked the man steadily in the eyes. "There is nothing weak about him, doctor."

"I didn't say that. Nevertheless, I apologise if I offended him or you, sir." The doctor lowered his eyes as he started to pack his instruments back into the case.

"I will see you off," Alec offered, even though the man didn't say he was finished.

On his way out, the doctor passed his last recommendations, "It would be good if someone was by him when he returns to consciousness." Alec threw him a glance – a _glare_ – and the man hastily added, "You. It would be good if _you_, sir, were present there. He may be in slight shock, he will need reassurance."

"Of course."

The doctor put on his cloak and his top hat. He was clutching his case in one hand, there was a cane in the other. "I gather then that mister Bane will be staying here? For the whole three weeks that are needed for his recovery? I'm not trying to be nosy, lord Lightwood, it's just a concern about one of my patients speaking through me. I'd like to know."

"I understand. And yes, mister Bane stays here. For as long as he wishes."

They bowed at each other. The doctor ordered to send for him in case of any complications, but then he took in Alec's grim face, and he quickly reassured that there wasn't going to be any reason for that.

As the doors were closing, Alec added after him, "Thank you, Doctor Blackwell. I really am grateful."

Then he was alone again. The doors locked with an echo that resounded hollowly in the hall. Alec looked around: the inside of his house was lit with many candles that were placed in the sconces and on every vacant flat surface, but he didn't feel any _warmth_. He sighed, preparing for the trip back upstairs.

His sister was waiting for him at the entrance of Magnus' room. She was dressed in her nightgown, cocooned in a woollen shawl. Her hair was braided, resting on her shoulder. Clearly, she was ready for bed, even though the clock hadn't even struck eight yet. It had been a long day for all of them.

There was concern written across her face, in the soft lines of her lips, her creased brows. "Alec? How is he? How are you doing?"

He smiled tiredly. "Do you want me to answer those in order?" She didn't say anything, so he continued, "Magnus is going to be fine. Me, too. We're both getting there."

"Please, change into something warm," she hurried to say when she noticed the movement of his hand, reaching for the doorknob.

"Oh." Alec looked at himself. He stared at his hands for a while. They were empty and wrinkled as if after a long bath, and a little blue. "I guess I could. I should."

They parted on the threshold to Alec's bedroom, as if Isabelle didn't trust him to actually do it, until he had a foot in his room. They said their goodnights, then Alec disappeared inside.

He quickly stripped off his clothes – now dry, but still sticking to his skin in a repulsive way. His body was red and itching, but he refused to take a bath. He didn't want to leave Magnus for any longer than was necessary. He dressed in a pair of black, loose-fitting pants and a linen shirt. The clothes were light, just a feather-like touch on his skin, and it felt _pleasant. _When he was ready, he hurriedly returned to Magnus, leaving a pile of dirty clothes in the middle of his room.

Magnus' chamber was wonderfully warmed by then. Some of the candles had been blown out, some had remained lit, but those were placed far from Magnus' bed.

Alec padded towards where his friend lay. He looked at Magnus' face: he was sleeping soundly. He was safe. Alec reached out his hand and touched Magnus' forehead (gently, in order not to wake him or even disturb his dreams) – the fever was still floating through his body, but his temperature was noticeably lower. Magnus' mumbled something when Alec's hand disappeared, and Alec replaced it with his lips. He placed a kiss on the heated skin, right underneath the line of the black hair, pouring all the care and protectiveness and promise into it. Magnus sighed, and his hot breath caressed Alec's neck.

Alec went to grab himself a chair, and placed it at the side of the bed. He sunk into the plush upholstery and a quiet groan escaped his lips. He felt all the tension starting to slowly leave his body; he felt warm all over, fuzzy and cosy and s_o, so sleepy. _He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand, even though there was no one there to criticize his lack of manners.

He leaned forward slightly, and took Magnus' hand in his. Of course he knew that it wouldn't make any difference to an unconscious Magnus (subconsciously, he hoped that it was not entirely true), but to feel the slightly erratic beat of a pulse actually brought him comfort. He brought the hand to his face and rubbed Magnus' knuckles against his own cheek. It was such a tender gesture, and Magnus' hand seemed so delicate in his that he was afraid that the moment – the whole evening, that night – would break into pieces at once.

He gently put Magnus' hand back on the sheets (brown on stark white, such a striking contrast), and Magnus' index finger twitched.

"Alexander…" Magnus mumbled in that sweet, beautiful voice of his, even if it sounded a little shaky, a little faint.

Alec's eyes snapped to his face, yet it quickly turned out that his name was a part of that delirious talking that doctor Blackwell had predicted. Magnus' eyelids were tightly shut, his eyes racing back and forth underneath them. He was not making sure of Alec's presence. He was dreaming.

Nevertheless, Alec decided to answer. "Yes, I'm here," he reassured, giving Magnus' fingers a light squeeze. "I'm here, Magnus, and I'm not going anywhere."

The pulse underneath Alec's fingertips slowed down, as if Magnus' heart had reached a rapid speed at the possibility of Alec's absence and then got back to its normal rhythm.

After a while, Alec absentmindedly realized that by regularly stroking Magnus' skin, he was starting to lull himself to sleep. But it was too late to get back. Within seconds, his head landed heavily on the mattress, somewhere nearby Magnus' hip. He nuzzled into the duvet: it smelled of flowers and oranges and cinnamon and a little bit of rain, so he cringed at that. He was fed up with rain. He scratched at his nose with their intertwined hands and after that, a dreamless sleep consumed him.

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Alec wasn't certain what woke him up. All he knew was that there was darkness enveloping him – it was still night-time, so he should probably go back to sleep immediately – and a soft surface underneath his cheek and warm flesh touching his hand.

He decided against his brain's encouragements, and slowly raised his head. After he stared long enough and his eyes more or less got used to the lack of lighting in the room, he realized there was a pair of eyes staring right back at him. They were blinking slowly, sleepily, and the two of them must have looked ridiculous.

"Magnus? Are you awake?" Alec spoke up first, apparently the fog left by sleep hadn't fully abandoned his mind yet.

"Alexander?" Magnus' voice was coarse.

"Yes, it's me." Alec crawled closer to his friend, only half-aware of a smile making its way across his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Groggy."

Alec laughed breathlessly and the sound hung there, somewhere between them. "Yeah, I can see that." He was perfectly aware of Magnus' hand still tightly clasped in his, but he didn't feel like letting go. At all. "Do you remember what happened?"

Magnus' brows furrowed. "I think so. I fell and then you carried me home, like some knight in shining armour."

"You almost got that right. I didn't carry you all the way back home." His voice was trembling a little, and he struggled to get it under control. "We are in the Institute now and you are safe here. Everything is going to be fine, I'll take care of it."

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment. His was propped against the pillows, but it was a comfortable enough position to get back to sleep. But then he added, "I know you will."

Alec sat deeper in his chair. His one hand was supporting his chin, while the other was playing with Magnus' (still too hot to not worry about it) fingers. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Magnus hummed. "I don't think I can so easily. I feel… bothered." He rubbed his hand against his face. His skin was shining with sweat and it was clammy. His hair was sticking to his temples and his neck. Alec could see a trickle of sweat disappearing under the collar of Magnus' opened nightgown, and he fought the urge to wipe it away or follow it or _anything_, just to stop it from bothering Magnus (or him, but it was not relevant). "Can we talk for a little while, maybe?"

"Of course. What do you want to talk about?"

Magnus closed his eyes again. He didn't speak for some time and Alec thought he did indeed go back to sleep. But then Magnus looked at him and said, surprising him yet again, "Do you believe in magic?"

Oh, there it was. Delirious talk. Alec might as well be honest. Completely honest. It was not like Magnus would remember any of that in the morning, and even though Alec trusted him, he really did, he would never consider speaking of such _ridiculous _matters in normal circumstances. It was not allowed.

"Not really…?" he answered truthfully. "Sometimes, I do think that Jace and I share some kind of profound bond, that we are closer than brothers. And that we have a mission, all three of us, the Lightwoods – to fight demons, but they come in various human shapes. You know, we try to help people. But that's not magic. That's just kindness. And duty."

Magnus' eyelids were half-closed again, but Alec had a feeling that he was watching him very carefully. "And what about love?" he asked then.

Alec opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, then opened it again. "I… wouldn't really know. I love my family, but that's obvious, because we're related."

"Blood isn't love," said Magnus, and there was something bitter in his voice.

Alec blinked. "But I've never been in love. Is there something magical about it? I suppose. How can you lose yourself entirely in another person? It must be witchcraft." Alec was half-aiming at being humorous, not wishing to give a proper answer, even now. Then, before he could _think_, he added softly, "Yet even though I've read plenty about it and it always sounds so _terrifying, _I think I would like to feel it. But I'm afraid it's not allowed, not in my case." He looked up and swallowed.

Magnus turned to his side. He put his head on his hands and was just _looking _at Alec, listening to him. Alec had the impression that Magnus' eyes were glowing in the dark, the green and gold and paleness of moonlight were flashing in his eyes, escaping through his eyelashes, colouring them silver.

Alec laughed nervously, breathlessly. "When you're looking at me like that, you make me want to stop being a coward. But how does one distinguish bravery from selfishness?" He exhaled and peeked at Magnus. The man's eyes were closed, again, and Alec felt a tiny little tinge of disappointment, but he quickly washed it away with forced relief. He picked up, "You probably won't remember it in the morning, and perhaps it's for the better, but it's nice." He smiled faintly. "It's nice to talk to someone without the burden of having every word judged. Then again, it's always like that with you. Not just now." With a soft sigh, he let his eyes wander around Magnus' face, tracing his features without touching; the sharp line of his jaw, the arc of his nose, his closed eyes, the soft curve of his lips.

Silence fell upon them. Alec waited a few minutes for Magnus to say something in reply – with not much hope – and when a half-snore, half-mewl finally answered him, Alec chuckled fondly.

"I guess I shall bid you goodnight then," Alec said softly.

Magnus whined in protest, surprising him, because he could swear that his friend was already half-asleep. "Don't go," Magnus mumbled into the pillow.

"I was not going to. I'm certain I could get comfortable on that chair."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Magnus' mouth. "Don't be ridiculous. There is plenty of room on the bed."

Alec gaped (and was grateful that Magnus was not seeing the expression of utter bewilderment on his face) and then stuttered, "Um. Alright."

Magnus' finally opened his eyes – hell, now Alec could swear that they glowed, boring a hole into his very soul – and scooted back. His head stayed nested in his hands, and he observed Alec with unblinking eyes as Alec took off his shoes, then reached for the covers to hesitantly pull them back. Alec climbed into the bed and wiggled a little to get himself comfortable (well, as comfortable as he could get being in the same bed as Magnus Bane, a man with the most unsettling eyes on Earth). Their legs brushed underneath the duvet and Magnus flinched at Alec's cold toes against his naked calf.

"Sorry," Alec mumbled.

"It's alright," Magnus said softly, and Alec wasn't certain anymore if he was speaking of the skin-on-skin contact, or of the whole situation, or of that _thing _that was developing between them, or about that flutter of Alec's heart that just wouldn't s_top. _But how could he even know about the latter? When Alec had finally turned to his side so they were face to face, Magnus said, "I'm sorry about getting myself injured. I'm sorry I caused you worry."

Alec had one hand under his cheek, mirroring Magnus' position, the other was resting between their bodies. "See? And you were afraid I'd hurt myself."

"Ha, you're right," Magnus chuckled, somewhat bitterly, with a fluffy sigh. "I'm the one who needs saving."

Alec's hand twitched at the same time that Magnus unfolded his and twined their fingers together.

"It's alright," he repeated, and it _was. _

They lay there for a little while longer, simply looking at each other, memorizing how the other person's features looked in the candlelight. They wouldn't be able to tell later who closed their eyes first, who was brave enough or too tired or happy to do so. They fell asleep facing each other, with their clasped hands resting in the wide space between their bodies.

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**Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hi, cupcakes, first of all, thank you so much for your support! You are amazing! *sprinkles with love* Your reviews always make me feel so happy (and frankly, a little overwhelmed, but it's a good feeling :P). Also, your patience is really appreciated. Nearly 50,000 words and they still haven't kissed! I'm impressed - with you and with myself :D (I know that we all want that to happen, but the only thing I can say is that we are getting there. _Soon.)_  
**

**This chapter's been divided. Originally, there were two parts, very different from each other, and it didn't look good. I think you'll see what I mean when you read the next one - it's already written, just waiting to be edited, so hopefully it'll be coming up soon! (It'll also be a little shorter.)**

**This chapter also contains a line from City of Glass, you'll probably find it. No need to say it, but it definitely doesn't belong to me. **

**Beta'ed, as always, by ChaseThisLightWithMe, who is just the best! *fist-pumps the air* (No, but she really is.)**

* * *

The faint sunlight danced across Alec's closed eyelids. It wasn't bright enough to describe the morning as sunny, but it was more than sufficient to make Alec stir.

The heir scrunched up his nose and with his left hand – his other was trapped in something warm and it felt too good to move it – he rubbed at his eyes and then his forehead. A soft little noise escaped his lips as he stretched out his body, preparing to face the day. The movement led to Alec's leg colliding with _something_. It was warm – _hot_ – and caused shivers to run down Alec's spine. At once, he remembered.

Last night, he fell asleep on Magnus Bane's bed, with Magnus Bane _in_ said bed, next to him. A sudden surge of _panic _overwhelmed him. Yes, they both had been exhausted back then, and Magnus had been delirious, but Alec had nothing, absolutely nothing in his defence right now. He shouldn't have acted on upon his _feelings_ – or whatever it was that he felt for his friend. It was a moment of weakness, and he shouldn't have submitted himself to it. He felt disgusted with himself, like he'd used Magnus, taken advantage of him.

As the realization hit him, he snapped his eyes open and scrambled to get off that _damn_ bed. It was only then when he noticed that during night, Magnus had _stolen _his hand and proclaimed it as his. Alec stopped his tussle and sat up, motionless. He stared at his hand, trapped in Magnus', their fingers intertwined tightly. During the night, Magnus must have shuffled closer to Alec – or maybe it was Alec who had made the move? Their bodies weren't touching now, except for their palms, but they were still close enough to blame Alec's frantic movements for Magnus' confused blinking right now.

Magnus was waking up with a disorientated frown blossoming between his brows, and Alec's heart stopped. Was Magnus angry? He should be. He probably was. Alec's heart restored its beating just to sink low in his stomach. Did he ruin everything…?

But then, to Alec's immense amazement, Magnus _smiled: _a slow, lazy smile.

"Good morning," he murmured. Sleepily, contentedly.

Alec's breath caught in his lungs. It was as if Magnus was happy to see him – surprised, at first, but definitely content. It was clear that he wanted Alec to be here. His wayward heart was now jumping without a rhythm – oh, what was happening with him today?

"Good morning, Magnus," Alec finally answered, his voice wavering a little.

Magnus' smile grew to a full grin. It was bright as sunlight, and Alec couldn't help but mirror his expression, though his smile was more cautious, incredulous.

It was… _odd_, to see Magnus like that. His face was bare, and opened. There were splotches of red on the apples of his cheeks, probably caused by the fever. His lips were chapped, and if Alec leaned closer, he would see that some of Magnus' eyelashes were stuck together. His eyelids were heavy and puffy after a night of sleep; his hair was a tangled mess, sticking to his temples. He had never looked so… vulnerable. And still, he was so beautiful in Alec's eyes.

Yes, it was odd, but also strangely pleasant. When Alec realized he was probably the only one who got to see Magnus in such a state, he felt a tinge of _possessiveness_ thrum around his heart. He felt privileged. And it made him brave.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, letting out a puff of held air. "How are you feeling?" His fingers twitched in anticipation of an answer.

The small movement brought attention to their intertwined hands. They both looked down, and mutually broke apart. Alec fumbled a little with his sleeve, but when he peeked at Magnus, he saw that his friend's expression hadn't changed: he still looked so weirdly satisfied.

"You may find it hard to believe, but I slept fantastic. The best night in ages." He stretched his arms above his head and groaned low. Alec winced sympathetically upon hearing Magnus' joints popping into place. "Ow. Ah. But I'm feeling sticky. And gross."

"You don't look gross," Alec blurted out, and then flushed immediately.

Magnus chuckled, "Thank you, darling, but I didn't say I do. I only feel like it."

"Oh." Alec finally moved to leave the bed. He placed his feet on the floor and swayed a little when he stood up. Too fast, his brain was yet to catch up. "I'll send for Simon. He'll help you wash up and change into something clean. Or do you want to eat breakfast first?"

"Will you accompany me?" For a split, electrifying second Alec thought that Magnus was asking about his washing up ritual (and he would be embarrassed to admit, but he almost passed out at the thought), but then Magnus added, "For breakfast? It would be lonely to eat on my own, when everybody is downstairs."

"Yes," Alec choked out against the dryness in his throat. "It would be my pleasure."

He stepped closer to the door, avoiding looking at Magnus, and with his hand on the doorknob, he promised, "I'll be back." There was a rusting sound of something – someone – moving in the sheets and Alec forcefully ordered, "Don't. Move. We don't want your leg to get worse."

He slipped out of the room, and he could swear he heard Magnus' giggles following him to the corridor.

Quickly, he went to his room – it was just next to Magnus'. He intended to go back to his friend as fast as possible, but after inspecting himself in a small mirror, he decided against it.

He looked… different, today. His cheeks were red, and there was a creased mark on the right side of his face left by the sheets. His hair was a mess on the top of his head. But that was normal – he usually looked dishevelled right after rolling out of bed; he was a restless sleeper. He shook his head at his reflection, because _today_, after last night, it didn't make sense. Next to Magnus, he managed to sleep soundlessly. With no worries and no disturbing dreams making his brows furrow. It meant that it was Magnus' body heat that made him hot, Magnus' fingers that must have threaded through his hair at some point during night, Magnus' presence that made his eyes _shine _so weirdly right now. Was it really Alexander Lightwood, staring back at him in the mirror? The man in front of him was more of an _Alec, _and there was a tiny smile tugging at his lips. The shyness was familiar, but the overwhelming happiness and excitement were something new.

He shook his head again, causing some of the black strands to fall to his eyes. He washed himself quickly, and in the process, he tried to force at least some of his thoughts from his mind. Like, the phantom feeling of Magnus' hand in his that caused his fingertips to tingle, and was making him want to run back to Magnus' room and press their skin together and never let go. He _needed _to get rid of such thoughts. They were dangerous.

Without waiting for Simon, he chose appropriate attire for the day. He dressed, absentmindedly, and decided he was ready. As he was putting his night clothes aside, he noticed that the dirty clothes from yesterday had disappeared from his floor. In their place, there was a small pile of dried flowers. Those were the daisies from his flower crown, now brown instead of white and pink, wrecked by too much rainwater and lack of their little roots. Alec was grateful that someone – Simon? Amatis? – thought he would like to keep them. He gathered them in his palm, picked them up and put on the top of his escritoire, right beside his writing instruments. Then he turned on his heel and left the room, before he could curse himself for such sentimentality.

He went downstairs to collect breakfast for Magnus and himself, relieving Simon of that duty. He bid good morning to the servants in the kitchen, and to his siblings in the dining room. They chatted for a short while – about Magnus' condition, their plans for today – until Alec started chewing on his pancake and Isabelle, seeing how hungry he was, sent him back upstairs.

When he came back, he saw Magnus sitting on the bed. His back was against the headboard, his injured leg propped against a pillow. There was a grey blanket draped over his knees. He looked fresher, if still a bit tired, hints of violet shadows underneath his eyes. Yet he smiled brightly at Alec when he entered, and said, "Hello, again."

"You are not allowed to talk until you eat everything," Alec said in return, half-playfully, but meaning it. He placed the tray on the bed and gestured for Magnus to eat up. He sneaked a cup of tea in for himself and stood at the side of the bed, leaning against one of the four columns decorating its corners.

"How overbearing you are today," Magnus muttered, trying to sound sulky but failing when a smirk broke across his face.

He started eating and Alec observed him, resembling a mother bird watching over her nestling. He sipped at his tea and he was smiling every time his eyes met Magnus', and once they ended up just staring at each other with matching grins on their faces.

"Why won't you sit beside me?" Magnus offered after a while, when his plate was half-empty.

Alec had already finished his tea, but now he fixated his gaze on the white bottom of his porcelain cup. He was silent for a few seconds, but then Magnus started moving in order to make room for him, and it was then when he decided to speak up – to stop him. "Um. I would rather not."

He more felt than saw Magnus freeze. "Why?"

Alec gulped. "How we ended up last night it was... it wasn't appropriate." He hesitated and his eyes flickered to Magnus' face, just to return to the brown, circled marks that his tea left on the inside of the cup. "It was an accident, alright? And I'm sorry. But I can promise you it won't happen again."

Magnus didn't say anything, and Alec finally looked at him. His face was a mask – free of hurt or confusion that could be, however, heard in his voice, "Why are you saying such things?" Like he couldn't _believe_. "Do you want me to leave? Because if you do, you can just say it. Be direct with me, Alexander, please." Oh, that _please – _not a humble request, but a strict instruction, written on the tight set of his lips.

"I…" Alec made a move like he wanted to come closer to Magnus, but his friend's posture was defensive. "I don't want you to leave, no."

"Then what are you saying? What do _you w_ant?"

"It doesn't matter what-"

"Yes, it does!" Magnus cut in, but we was not angry. He was frustrated. "Could you stop being so _selfish_ in your selflessness? Why can't you see it? Does it all, our relationship, feel uncomfortable to you? Does it seem wrong?"

Alec shook his head. "I'm not ready for this conversation." His eyes were glued to the lower parts of the bed. "How is your leg?"

"How is my...?" Magnus let out a puff of air. "Way to change the subject, Lightwood." He narrowed his eyes and seemed to deliberate over something, and after a moment, he responded, "It's fine. Doesn't hurt."

Alec reached out and, absentmindedly, he ran his fingers over the bandages wrapped around Magnus' ankle; the limb shivered under his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You didn't hurt me," Magnus whispered back. Why were they whispering in the first place?

Alec moved slowly, and sat down on the bed. He was looking at his lap. "You will have to be more careful."

"I will," Magnus breathed. Were they talking about Magnus' injury or something else? His answer wouldn't change either way. "I promise, I will." He reached out with his hand, slowly, _carefully_, and waited for Alec to take it. The blue-eyed boy did, and they mutually squeezed their fingers briefly before letting go.

They resumed their conversation, making plans for the next three weeks, wondering what they would do. They decided it would be wise for Magnus to stay bedridden for at least a week – Magnus started whining in protest and didn't stop until Alec promised to read aloud to him and generally keep him company. Magnus was also excited about spending some time with Alec's family. They both were, even if Alec still wouldn't look Magnus in the eye. He didn't, until Magnus murmured, out of the blue, "I apologize for being a burden." At those words, Alec looked up, their eyes locked and he was literally unable to look away. There was reassurance, in those golden-green eyes, reassurance and warmth and understanding. An invitation. He couldn't stay closed at such openness.

So they talked. They talked and talked and talked, until Alec became certain of the answers he knew he'd had already, but hadn't felt strong enough to say them aloud. _No_, it wasn't uncomfortable. Magnus made him feel all kinds of things: excitement, anticipation, and yes, there was nervousness, but it was _good. _And being near him did make his stomach twist, his heart lose its rhythm, his palms sweat, but that was the butterflies' fault_. _And the ridiculousness of the thought that some tiny, fragile-winged creatures found a home between his ribcage made him _smile_.And no, it certainly didn't feel wrong. Oh, God no. It felt beautiful.

* * *

Magnus' recovery days began. Alec did leave his friend's bedroom, sometimes. Only when his throat started to hurt and his voice got hoarse after hours of reading aloud, or when they felt like drinking tea, but Alec didn't want to bother the servants when he could go downstairs himself and he wanted to stretch out his legs anyway. Every time, Magnus pouted because he wasn't allowed to do that, and Alec laughed at that reaction with fake maliciousness.

One afternoon, three days after the accident, Alec found Isabelle sitting in the library. They had finished one book and were eager to start another one, so Alec left Magnus' room to go book-hunting. He didn't expect to run into his sister, but was pleasantly surprised – it had been quite a while since he last saw her.

He would smile at the sight of her if she wasn't looking so gloomy. Isabelle was sitting in one of the armchairs, her knees under her chin. She seemed to be deeply immersed in her thoughts – apparently she didn't care about the servants who were standing in the far corners of the room, Simon among them, who were ready in case she had a wish that needed to be fulfilled, and who were currently witnessing her un-lady-like position. For once, Alec didn't care either.

The library was plunged in semi-darkness and Alec became one of the shadows decorating the walls. He came up to Isabelle and knelt at her feet, surprising her.

"What is troubling you, Iz?" he asked quietly, adjusting the tone of his voice to the atmosphere of the room.

"Alec." She smiled down at him; a brief, delicate smile. "I spoke with Mother."

His eyes never left her face. He hadn't yet found the right moment to talk to his siblings about their mother's condition or about her recent interest in the household's life. It seemed like she managed to do it for him.

He waited for her to continue. "She implied that she wishes for me to 'make connections' with Magnus. Basically, she wants me to _seduce _him." Her hands were curled into small fists. Alec was silent. "Apparently, mister Bane would be a 'good match'. I don't know what he told her, but it made her think he is rich and comes from a respectable family. There has to be something that makes him good enough for a Lightwood bride." She shuddered. "God, this is disgusting."

Alec still couldn't get a word out. Isabelle looked down at him, and there had to be something in his expression that caused her to immediately put her palms on both sides of his face. "Alec, Alec, shh, we are not going to do it. Breathe." Her thumbs were a soothing touch on his cheeks. "I talked to him."

"What?" he squeaked.

"I figured it would be better if we were both straightforward about it. I knew he didn't want it. I saw how he looked…" she stopped and looked him in the eye. "I would never do that."

"What do you mean?" His voice sounded weak.

"I don't fancy him, he is not interested in me. He told me, bastard, though he didn't have to." Isabelle shot him a foxy smile, briefly, before her expression turned serious again. "The fact that this is what is expected of us is enough not to go through with it. But I wouldn't do it anyway, because…" her voice dropped, "there is… someone else."

She saw Alec's face going from shocked to curious and _alarmed_, so she hastily added, "I'm not ready to talk about it, yet." Her eyes flicked briefly in the direction where the servants were standing, as if she was afraid that someone might have heard them. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face, then she fixed her eyes on Alec again. "But you have to believe me, dear brother, that you will be the first to know if anything big happens. You and Jace."

After a quick staring contest, Alec nodded solemnly. "I hope he is a decent man."

"He is, Alec," she smiled. "He is."

They sat for a little while in silence, Alec leaning on his heels, thoughtful.

"Do I know him?" he finally asked and grinned at Isabelle's gasp.

"Alexander Lightwood. I'm not going to tell you." She stood up abruptly, planted a kiss on his forehead and left with a quiet, "yet."

* * *

**Here we go. Drop a review to share your thoughts! Thanks for reading :)**

***Side note (ignore me): today is one of those days when English doesn't make sense to me. I write something and it's just words that are not translating in my mind, it's weird. I think I need a nap or something. Ugh. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: As promised! This one is a little shorter, a little different. The scenes are separated by John Keats' quotes (as you might have noticed, I adore him, and his work has been a main inspiration for this story); first three quotes come from _Letters_ of John Keats to Fanny Brawne, the last one is from _Ode to a nightingale. _Also, the scenes don't have to happen chronologically - seriously, you can go right ahead and read them in random order. Whatever you like. **

**There's also a little surprise for you: a scene from a certain person's POV ;) It's probably not exactly what you wanted, but it was all I could offer for now.**

**Beta'ed by ChaseThisLightWithMe, who is my right hand, my co-pilot. She's a Han Solo to my Chewbacca :3 **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

They were getting closer to each other. They both felt it, and Alec still had his moments where he pulled away, but Magnus always managed to pull him back. And even though Alec didn't sleep in Magnus' bed again, they always ended up _touching_. Hands. Alec's head on the mattress, Magnus fingers tangled in his hair. Magnus' head on Alec's lap – an extremely uncomfortable position, which resulted in Magnus' sore neck and back the next day and Alec's flushed face and escape to his room. Alec's legs thrown on the bed during their reading hours, Magnus' calf pushed between his feet. They always found their way to get _closer_.

* * *

"_You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving."_

The afternoon was golden coloured. In the middle of November the sun set early, but with a great ceremony. The room, as well as Alec's and Magnus' forms, was bathed in a warm, orange light. Alec's eyelids were dropping, not really interested in the paper he was reading. He would be content to fall asleep right there, but the rustling sound from the direction of Magnus' bed brought him to be alert within seconds.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alec asked when he saw Magnus trying to climb out of the bed.

"I cannot bear this anymore," Magnus muttered under his breath, and that was his only answer.

His feet were nearly touching the floor when Alec appeared at his side. "Hey, hey, stop right there." He put his hands on Magnus' elbows. "You shouldn't leave the bed for at least two days more."

"I know," Magnus sighed dramatically. "But I miss the outdoors."

There was a silence that lasted for a heartbeat longer and then Alec said, "Alright. Let me help you."

Magnus looked up at him with disbelief, and so much hope and joy.

Alec situated himself at his friend's right and asked him to put his arm around his neck. Magnus slowly stood up and immediately leaned against Alec's side to avoid putting any weight on his ankle. In order to make it easier for both of them, Alec's arm went to sneak around Magnus' waist.

"Ready?" Alec huffed and they began their walk across the room. The window had never seemed so far away.

After a couple of steps forward, interrupted by Magnus' joyful giggling, they stopped to catch their breath.

"Oh God, this is such a terrible idea," Alec murmured. "Why am I doing this, again?"

"Because you want to make me happy," Magnus turned his head to show Alec his grin, and in that moment it finally occurred to Alec how _close _they actually were. He could see little specks of green sparkling in Magnus' golden irises. Magnus' every breath tickled his neck and made the short hair on his nape stand. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of Magnus' arm casually thrown around his neck, his fingers dangling and caressing his chest. Magnus' whole body lined up with his. Side, hip, thigh. _Oh_ _God_. He exhaled forcefully and he could swear he felt his pupils dilate.

He practically dragged Magnus the rest of the way. His breath was coming out in short, frantic gasps.

They stopped in a bright, sunny spot. The floor was warm under their bare feet. The air smelled of autumn, of orange and yellow and brown leaves crunching under boots, of apples and sweet chestnuts and ink from Alec's fingertips. He let Magnus lean over the windowsill and _breathe_. From his spot – a little behind Magnus, as if he didn't want to disturb the moment – he watched with fascination as his friend's eyes became wider and wider. Magnus stumbled slightly when his whole body jerked to follow the movement of something in the skies, and he hissed as he accidentally stood on his right ankle.

"Careful," Alec scolded, rushing to support him. On impulse, he fitted his hands on Magnus hips – it was enough to help Magnus regain his balance, but it also cause them both to _stop._

There was surprise in their held breaths – rapture – and it felt like every clock in the house stopped ticking; until Magnus slowly leaned back, resting against Alec's chest. Alec could feel Magnus' sigh of contentment, for it went through his body, too.

"I like it here," Magnus murmured and his voice vibrated in Alec's veins.

Normally, Magnus was taller than Alec, maybe by an inch or two. But today, after over four days of lying in bed, his knees still felt a little weak, so his temple ended up bumping against Alec's chin. Alec, instinctively, turned his head a little so his lips touched the top of Magnus hair.

Somehow, they fit together perfectly. Their bodies _dissolved _within each other, and they wouldn't be able to tell which limb belonged to whom. They stood there, watching the sunset – well, Magnus was watching the sun, and Alec, _absorbed_, was watching him.

* * *

"_I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else."_

Alexander had been absent the whole day. He did that, sometimes, when his duties called upon him and his work piled up so he was absolutely forced to leave Magnus' side. Isabelle kept him company instead – they talked (surprisingly, not all their conversations revolved around Alexander), they laughed, they enthused about music – until she left, too, and he was alone again.

He napped for some time, bored out of his mind. Then he started reading, but it wasn't the same when it was Alexander's deep voice putting images in his head. If reading had lost its appeal because of it, then the boy was truly a curse.

Just as he threw aside the volume, something scratched at his door. There was a dramatic pause, then the door opened, and a fluffy white-brownish-sliver shape dashed into the room. It barked happily and the realization hit Magnus.

"Chairman Meow!" he cried out and bent over the edge of the bed just in time to pick up the dog – his legs were too short to climb onto the bed on his own.

Magnus looked up, trying and failing to escape Chairman's adoring licks at his chin, and he saw Alexander standing in the doorway, smiling brightly.

"He missed you," the blue-eyed boy said, stepping inside and closing the door.

"How did you know that _I _missed him?" Magnus asked, incredulous. He was petting the dog's sides furiously and Chairman's poked out tongue made him look like he was smiling.

"I just knew it," Alexander shrugged, as if it wasn't the nicest thing someone had done for Magnus in ages. He joined Magnus on the bed and scratched the dog behind ears.

Magnus observed Alexander's pale hands, then his face. The boy's smile looked like within seconds it would start to hurt his pinked cheeks. His eyes were hidden behind thin lids and the strands of his mussed hair, but somehow, Magnus knew that the blue was bright. As bright as it got when Alexander was happy.

A dreamy sigh escaped his lips. "You are something else, aren't you?" he murmured philosophically.

The boy blinked at him. "No, not really." He shrugged again. He seemed very careless today. "I'm just trivial me."

_Oh no, you didn't. _Magnus climbed to his knees and unceremoniously put Chairman Meow aside, so that was nothing between him and the blue-eyed angel. "You," he put his hand under his chin to make their eyes meet, "are not trivial."

Alexander visibly gulped. "If you say so," his voice sounded a little faint.

"I say so."

Suddenly, Magnus gave a command to Chairman that had him jumping to his four feet and playfully attacking Alexander. They tumbled into the sheets – immature, delighted, joyful – and their laughter got mixed with insane yapping.

* * *

"_My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you._

_My Love is selfish. – I cannot breathe without you."_

They were spending the evening in the drawing room, all six of them: Isabelle, Jace, Alec, Magnus, Chairman Meow and Church.

The flames in the fireplace were a mixture of scarlet and titian. The dogs found a comfortable position in front of it, and now they were napping, Chairman curled up and pressed against Church's side.

The Lightwoods were busy playing a game of piquet. Currently, Isabelle was against Alec, and Jace was there to annoy them, impatient for when his turn would be.

Magnus declined participating in the game, having said he would rather read. He was settled in a small alcove of one of the windows. There was a navy-blue blanket wrapped around him, and a book on his lap. The window was wide open, and the air must have been chilling to the marrow, but Magnus claimed he wanted to get some fresh air – after being _imprisoned _for so long. (He'd said that with a smile, of course.)

Alec couldn't focus on the game. His gaze kept flickering to Magnus – the way he was hunched over the book, the way his leg was dangling inches above the floor, the way he would abandon the book to look outside. He imagined how Magnus' pupils must have dilated to discern anything in the dark, and how he reminded him of a cat sometimes.

Then Magnus chuckled at some words he had read, and suddenly, it was too much and too little at the same time. Alec sucked in a sharp breath. He _longed _– for something he couldn't exactly name. He passed Jace his cards, without really looking at him, and with a gesture he told him to carry on the game. Then he left the table.

Magnus looked up just as Alec reached him. He smiled. _Breathtaking_.

"Hello," Alec said politely and Magnus' smile grew.

"Did you win?" he gestured with his chin at the game table behind Alec's back.

"Nah, I didn't even finish. I just… needed to take a breath." His gaze landed heavily on Magnus'. The amber eyes were hooded, his head was tilted back, so he could look easily at Alec, baring the long column of his throat. Alec blinked owlishly. "Aren't you cold?" He took Magnus' hands in his and rubbed to warm them up.

"No," Magnus answered quietly, breathily, his eyes on Alec's flexing fingers. "Maybe a little. I didn't notice it until now."

"Mhm, maybe you should pay more attention." He took Magnus' hand as if he was going to ask him for a dance, and pressed his lips against cool skin. A soft kiss – a tingling sensation on Magnus' knuckles. "Let me know when you are ready to go to bed," he murmured, words on fingertips, and then put the hand back on Magnus' lap, cautiously, as if it was a precious object.

He returned to his siblings.

* * *

_tender is the night_

Magnus whimpered.

Alec jumped to his feet – it seemed like another one of those bad dreams. He leaned over Magnus' frame, pale in the moonlight, and cradled his head in his arms.

As he was whispering, his lips and words brushed against Magnus' earlobe, "Shh, shh, it's alright. You are home. You are safe."

* * *

**I really hope you liked this one :) It was kind of an experiment, so I'm not sure about it. **

**Thank you so much for all your reviews, follows and favs! You're incredible and I love you all! *hugs* **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hey, pumpkins! You know I love you, right?! I really do, and I'm aware that you are going to want to kill me after this chapter *covers* But I swear to God, I'm not doing it on purpose! I mean, I do - obviously - but it's not to torture you or anything... **

**But guys! Over 100 reviews! Whoop! Let's celebrate! *bakes pie* You are all amazing. I feel loved... *snuggles into the feeling* THANK YOU!**

**Beta'ed, as always, by ChaseThisLightWithMe, who is my sunshine :3**

**Oh, one more thing. This poem *points down* was found on tumblr, by accident. I thought it was beautiful and I couldn't resist including it somewhere here, because it made me think of this story and it kinda fits the theme of this chapter, right? *wiggles brows*(The author has a tumblr, you can google her name and you'll easily find it - if you're into poetry, you should check her out, I think she's brilliant.) **

* * *

_God I want you_

_in some primal, wild way_

_animals want each other._

_Untamed and full of teeth._

_God I want you,_

_In same chaste, Victorian way._

_A glimpse of your ankle_

_just kills me._

_- Want, _Clementine von Radics

* * *

December had started on the fourth week of Magnus' stay at the Institute. The Lightwoods had been unwilling to let him go after the three weeks of his recovery had passed, and in the end he'd been allowed to leave only after promising he would come back soon. Winter was slowly approaching. Dawns were marked with milk-white fog, days were grey and short, nights dark, cold and unforgiving.

There were still three weeks left until Christmas, but feverish excitement could be sensed in the Lightwoods' household already. Magnus was invited as a guest of honour – in fact, Isabelle just threw in, "Obviously, Magnus," (they were onto first-names terms by then), "you are coming." There was no place for discussion, and such was Magnus' answer: "Obviously," decorated with a radiant smile.

Isabelle and the cook worked on a perfect menu for every festive dinner, including New Year's Eve and the first day of year 1811. Jace was coerced into promising that he would help to decorate the house. Alec and Magnus' task was to go wildfowling, because Isabelle couldn't imagine Christmas dinner without a splendid pheasant on their table.

Jace was supposed to come with them, but on the evening before the set date he announced he didn't have a slightest intention of participating. They were in Alec's room at that time, Alec already in his sleeping clothes and Jace lounging in his bed, unwilling to leave.

Jace said he wouldn't want to disturb them in their 'sweet' _tête-a-tête, _he called them 'love birds', and when Alec turned scarlet, spluttered and choked on his own saliva, Jace rolled out of the bed in a fit of laughter.

Then Alec mumbled, "Thank you." And Jace couldn't breathe through his giggles and he finally left. Once he was gone, Alec was able to nestle down on his bed and hide his grin in his pillow.

* * *

They were supposed to meet at the crack of dawn, somewhere between their houses, and from there they would choose a suitable scenery for a hunt.

When Alec left the house, the sun wasn't up yet. The sky had the colour of ashes and sapphires. It was true, the saying, that it was always darkest before the dawn – Alec could barely see a thing, and was choosing his steps carefully, watching for any bumps. His officer's boots were heavy, and they were causing the frosty grass to crunch under his feet. The familiar weight of his bow and the quiver full of arrows on his back was bringing him comfort.

He knew it was quite an extraordinary way to hunt with such old-fashioned instruments, but he preferred it. He'd always been exceptional at archery – better than Jace, which, in his father's opinion, was unusual – and a bow always felt like a natural extension of his arm. However, when his father accompanied Jace and Alec to a hunt, he'd never let them use any other equipment but a traditional shotgun. He'd also never allowed them to carry their weapons, there always had been a string of servants following them, as there should be when a gentleman went hunting.

That day however, Alec was going with Magnus. There were no servants to flush the birds out of their hiding place, no one to help them carry their preys. He was allowed to have his favourite hunting weapon, and it felt good. If only it hadn't been so damn freezing.

He hid his gloved hands in the pockets of his oversized coat. The brown fabric was sweeping the ground behind him, making an odd, rustling sound. If it wasn't so early and so deserted, he would think that someone was following him. He chuckled at the ridiculous thought, causing a puff of air to cloud his vision for a second.

Fate couldn't have chosen a more ridiculous moment for them to meet. Alec was still climbing up the hill – _crunch, crunch, crunch _– when the sun finally, graciously, decided to rise.

The day was starting behind Magnus' back, for he was there – walking towards Alec, the tails of his black coat flapping behind him. The sky was quickly turning from pink to violet, fairy-like. The colours burst around Magnus, outlining his frame and making him look absolutely surreal.

Alec stopped to catch his breath, but instead of oxygen rushing to fill up his lungs, his body betrayed him and laughter escaped his throat. He was doomed. Even nature allied itself against him, presenting Magnus as the one who would be, in the end, the ultimate cause of Alec's undoing. Yet it was a sweet curse: it was making Alec's toes curl, his skin tingle with pleasure, his thoughts hum in appreciation. It made his heart flutter wildly in his chest, so he laughed, because it was a funny feeling and there was nothing he could – or _would _– do to change it.

Magnus finally stopped in front of him, just as Alec's eyes began to water from the lack of air, this time for real.

"May I have an honour of knowing what is so amusing?" Magnus said as a greeting; the melodic tone of his voice was coloured with joy.

Alec looked up at him and froze. He'd had a suspicion that his body was already frozen, but that was from the cold – now his veins were burning from the inside. How could a person feel so unbearably cold physically, and at the same time feel like they were being set on fire?

Magnus' eyes were like two warm sparks, his expression playful, his face open. There was redness on his cheeks, a smile on his lips. The pastel lighting made him even more beautiful, though normally Alec would imagine Magnus' colours as more passionate. But it just made Magnus look so… _soft _– which was irrational, since everything around them was _sharp;_ the cold was biting their cheeks and making their skin prickle and _God, _Alec was trembling.

Oh no, it wasn't funny anymore. It was incomprehensible. It was consuming. Alec was reminded of the _tension _that had recently started to appear whenever they were alone. When Magnus returned to his house after his recovery process, something had shifted between them. The air felt thick; it was difficult to look each other in the eyes. They were always either too close or too far away, and Alec's hands were burning with the want to _touch_. Sometimes it was unbearable, other times it was intoxicating, and it always made him feel starved. It was no different this time.

Alec's hands were still hidden in his pockets and he let them curl into balls. Anything to stop him from reaching out. His answer was a short, "You," thrown between them. The wind snatched it away and carried it somewhere far away.

"Well, since making you smile is my life-mission," Magnus started and stretched his arm. He poked Alec's dimple – because regardless of the state Alec found himself to be, he was still grinning like a maniac – and the leather material of the glove felt rough against his hypersensitive skin. Alec would prefer if there was nothing between them. Magnus' hand returned to his side and he finished, "Then I've found fulfilment."

"Yeah, or you could just stop saying such things." Alec rolled his eyes when Magnus sent him an innocent look. "Are you ready?" he asked, just to say something that would cause them to finally move.

When Magnus nodded, they took off and, with the sun now awoken, Alec had a chance to let his eyes wander along his companion's body. With discreet glances, he catalogued all the details: Magnus' navy waistcoat with a charming pattern of white cloudlets on it, hidden underneath his black coat. His strong thighs, muscles moving under the material of fitted trousers. Knee-high boots. A shotgun on a strap, thrown over Magnus' shoulder. Magnus' smirk, his eyes – playful and curious and on Alec and _damn, _he had been caught staring. Alec blushed and snapped his gaze straight ahead.

They reached their destination soon, to Alec's immense relief. Now he could focus on hunting, and Magnus' features would not be distracting anymore. They chose a place near a pond, knowing that the birds would be in the vicinity of it. Having the majority of the grass-covered area in view, they skulked just behind the line of the trees. Magnus lay down on his stomach, his shotgun ready, his eyes already sweeping the yellow sea of grass in front of them. Alec squatted down on his heels next to Magnus. Now they were supposed to wait for some bird to betray its position; a flap of a wing would be enough. The hunters just needed to be quiet, and patient.

After a while, Alec found it extremely difficult to maintain both. He was freezing. His brain would welcome any distraction from the cold, for example a conversation with Magnus would help, but he was not allowed to speak up. He got bored within minutes of his internal monologue. With a heavy sigh, he flopped on the ground next to Magnus. His stomach collided with the carpet of grass and crunchy leaves, and he gasped at how cold it felt. How had Magnus gone this long without shuddering?

"Are you even still alive?" Alec murmured, close to Magnus' ear. Their elbows were touching, their ankles bumped against each other when Alec was in the process of finding a bearable position. He was planning to keep his distance, but Magnus was just so _warm. _

"Yes, of course I am," Magnus whispered back. "You'll get used to it, trust me."

"I doubt it," he mumbled, mainly to himself. He knew he was acting like a child, but he had a good reason to sulk.

At the tone of his voice, Magnus finally took his eyes off the hunting area. He quickly assessed Alec's condition and then assured, "Fear not," there was a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips, "We could always share each other's body heat."

Alec's mouth fell open. He was desperately trying to stop his imagination from going in the direction it was currently heading. "Stop talking," he spluttered after he finally regained his voice.

Magnus chuckled. "Well, you started it."

"I know." There was a snort to his right. "Be quiet." He could feel Magnus' shoulders shaking with laughter, but his friend said nothing more.

Time was passing slowly, lazily. The sun was still low on the horizon; it was nothing but a pale, dim ball, hanging on a grey canvas. Alec didn't know if there were many clouds gathering over their heads or if it was just a particularly grumpy winter day.

He did get used to the cold – it stopped being so unbearable, though he was not certain if it was a good or a bad thing. Maybe it meant their bodies were becoming numb. For precaution, he shuffled closer to Magnus. It may have been his imagination playing tricks on him, but he thought he felt Magnus delicately nuzzling into his side.

A few minutes later, something wet and small landed on his cheek. He looked up and found the source.

"Look," he said quietly, nudging at Magnus' side, "It's snowing!"

Magnus gazed at the sky. "Oh. It's been a long time since I last saw snow." There was a certain sadness in his voice, and Alec mentally vowed to try and remove it from Magnus' mind.

He waited until there was a thin layer of white, powdery snow around them. With one glance confirming that Magnus was not looking in his direction, Alec gathered a handful of snow – it was impossibly light and nearly non-existent – and dumped it onto Magnus' head.

He couldn't have imagined a better reward: Magnus' scandalized expression was priceless. After a moment of fruitless struggling with words, Magnus exclaimed, "Alexander!" as if his tongue had chosen the phrase it was the most familiar with.

Alec had intended to keep his innocent face, but it turned out to be impossible. There were trickles of quickly-melting snow running down Magnus' face, and the small heap left on top of his head had already ruined his hair. Alec couldn't stop himself; he burst out laughing.

"You," Magnus growled, and Alec froze – in something that did not resemble fear, but sent shivers running down his spine nonetheless, "are going to regret it."

Alec lifted his head just in time to see Magnus charging at him. Their bodies collided. _Heat. _They rolled around in dried, old autumn leaves, yellow grass, first snow, and insane laughter. Magnus succeeded in pushing a handful of snow behind the back of Alec's undershirt. Alec yelped and kicked Magnus in the shin. There were hands everywhere: tugging, grabbing, tickling. Magnus pushed down his hips when Alec tried to wiggle from underneath him and the sudden feeling caused them both to freeze.

A pair of widened eyes, pupils dilated. Both Alec's wrists pinned to the ground by Magnus' hands. Magnus straddling Alec. Their faces at the same level, forehead to forehead, noses nearly bumping; breaths short, hot, visible, mixing together in the air between them.

"Alexander…" Magnus rasped, the word caressing Alec's reddened cheek.

"Alec," Alec interrupted him breathily. "Call me Alec."

Magnus moved his hand to brush Alec's mussed hair from his forehead. "Alec."

Alec didn't change the position of his arms, completely enchanted by the way Magnus' quickened breathing caused their chest to rub against each other. Magnus' fingers stayed twined with Alec's hair and then he tugged lightly.

The movement made Alec part his lips in a silent gasp and he _shivered_.

_I want him to… I want _him_. _

Another shiver raked his body, one that was marked with anticipation – yet Magnus must have misinterpreted it. "I'm sorry." He leaned back, releasing Alec's from his grip. "You're cold, I'm sorry."

Alec wanted to scream. _No, no, no! Come back. NO! _But then Magnus was already trying to stand up and Alec, fuzzily, was starting to realize how close they really were. The excitement thrumming through his veins was suffocating. He scrambled to get to his feet, on instinct helping himself by grabbing onto Magnus. The tails of their coats must have gotten tangled together, now causing them to stumble against each other in an awkward heap of limbs and muffled gasps.

Finally, they stood up, one opposite another. They were clutching at each other's forearms, making sure they were both properly on their feet.

"Are you alright?" Alec finally asked. Still touching, fingers digging into flesh. Still out of breath.

Magnus blinked, then nodded; and they mutually broke apart.

They looked around – anything to avoid looking each other in the eye – the messy ground not the only proof of their activities. They were both pictures of misery: hairs mussed, cheeks and foreheads with streaks of mud painted on them; clothes wet and dirty, clinging to their hypersensitive skin; expressions sour, insecure; bodies cold.

Alec cleared his throat. "What do you say? Should we finish up for today," _because this is not going to work, _"return home and then try to restore our blood circulation?"

Magnus glanced at him. "I agree." He slumped his shoulders. "I'll just ask Ragnor to go pheasant shooting for us or to just buy the damn bird."

They set off, the path ahead of them smooth with a layer of snow. They did not look back – there was a glaring, uneven patch of disrupted white powder behind them, left by their tumbling bodies. They were both afraid to face it, uncertain about the feeling of shame slowly unfurling in their chests.

* * *

There was a moment of hesitation when they almost stopped at the place where the paths to their houses crossed and went separate ways – but then Alec tugged at Magnus sleeve, silently inviting him to follow him to the Institute. Magnus complied.

They entered the house in a rush. It was quiet, except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the stamping of their feet when they attempted to shake off the snow. The echo resounded in the hall.

The house was empty. Isabelle and Jace were absent, they were at the village running errands that needed to be taken care of before Christmas.

Magnus quickly got rid of his boots and then his coat, unceremoniously dumping them to the floor. When he reached to the front of his tailcoat, Alec stopped him.

"Uh, Magnus? What are doing?"

"Undressing?" Magnus intoned.

"In the middle of the hall? At least have the decency to move along to my bedroom." Magnus' eyes widened slightly at those words, something wild sparked in them. Alec gulped. "I mean, what if… one of the maids saw you…?"

"Mhm, because the sight of me naked would be so corrupting."

Alec struggled for words. "Uh." He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. "Just follow me, please."

They climbed upstairs, Alec with his cheeks flaming for a reason he wasn't entirely sure of, hyperaware of Magnus' every breath behind him.

Once they were in Alec's room, Magnus casually got back to stripping. Alec turned his back to him, knowing that if they had stayed face to face, he would have been able to do nothing more but _stare_.

He began undressing, slowly, the sounds of Magnus' every movement making his arms feel as heavy as lead. He gulped when he heard what must have been Magnus' tailcoat hitting the floor with a wet flop. He could imagine Magnus' graceful fingers working on the buttons of his waistcoat, then his shirt.

He closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and took off his shirt. It fluttered down to the bed without disturbing the heavy silence. His heart beat loudly in his chest. The air felt hot against his cool skin. The fresh memory of their 'hunt' was flashing behind his closed eyelids.

Their irregular breathing was the only sound in the room, until Magnus spoke up, "What are those?" quietly, haltingly.

Alec didn't have enough time to be confused, because in that moment he felt Magnus' cold fingers on his skin.

_Oh. _Magnus was tracing his scar – that one running across his shoulder blade like a miserable parody of a fallen angel's wing. There was a second one, sustained on the same day, marking his hipbone.

Magnus' touch was questioning, careful, _loving. _Spine-tingling. Yet Alec flinched from it. There was an impossible (_familiar_) feeling rising in his chest – guilt, despair, longing – threatening to spill through his throat, his eyes.

He turned around in a swift motion and grabbed Magnus' wrist.

"Don't…" his voice was trembling, his fingers were trembling. It was as if he only then noticed Magnus standing in front of him, half-naked – _so much skin _– his eyes golden-green and calm. Alec swallowed, hard. "Do you want me to tell you the story behind them?"

Magnus' gaze was searching Alec's face. "If you are ready to tell me."

"I want you to hear it." _I want you to stay _after_. _

"Then I'll listen."

He let go of Magnus. He took a step back and then stretched his arm to pull at the bell string. "Simon will bring you some dry clothes. Wait for me in the drawing room, would you?" Magnus nodded. "I just need to…" He saw a flicker of understanding in Magnus' face and without further explanation, he disappeared in the bathroom.

Once Alec was ready – when he was sure he would be able to keep his memories (and the tears that usually followed them) at bay – he got dressed and prepared to be re-joined with Magnus.

He slowly went downstairs, his steps muffled by fluffy carpets. He entered the drawing room and took a deep breath when he spotted Magnus sitting in front of the fireplace. Alec joined him on the floor, mirroring his cross-legged position. Magnus had his fingers wrapped around a mug of something – judging from the smell, it was hot chocolate. There was a portion for Alec, too, standing next to Magnus' knee, but Alec ignored it.

He focused his gaze on the flames. He wouldn't be able to look at Magnus now, not knowing what his reaction would be.

"I never told you about him, but I had a brother, Maxwell. Max." The name was a constant thrum in his mind, always somewhere in the back, always there, but it still felt difficult to say it aloud. "He died two years ago. He was nine. It was an accident." Alec swallowed. Magnus was silent. "I was with him when it happened. We went to the village to buy Isabelle something pretty. It was snowing. We were returning home when our carriage fell over. It wasn't the coachman's fault, the weather was disastrous. We shouldn't have left the house in the first place." He balled his hands into fists. "I sustained some injuries. The scar on my back is from a piece of the carriage that cut my skin. It healed. Max died."

The air felt too hot around him. He blinked a few times to get rid of the wetness in his eyes. He'd sat too close to the fire.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his leg – he looked down and it turned out that it was Magnus' hand, squeezing his knee.

"Alex… Alec." Magnus started.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut. He blindly reached for Magnus' hand, threaded their fingers together and _seized_ it.

"Alec." Magnus repeated, his voice quiet, yet strong. And those were Magnus' fingers tapping at Alec's chin, so he had no other choice than to look Magnus in the eye. A relieved whoosh of air escaped Alec's lungs, when blue locked with gold. "I hope you know that it wasn't your fault."

"Yes, no, of course," he said too quickly, Magnus' long digit still digging into his flesh.

Magnus' eyes were clouded with sadness. He murmured something to himself, something that sounded like, _"I can't let you think that. I can't believe someone let you think that."_ Then he climbed to his knees and swept Alec into a hug – his arms went around Alec's shoulders, he pressed Alec's face to his chest and planted a kiss on the top of his head. "You were sixteen years old. You were just a boy." he murmured against the black mop of hair.

Alec pulled back a little, shaking his head. His sticking-up strands tickled Magnus' chin. "No. I've never been 'just a boy'. I ought to be responsible."

Magnus' fingers were splayed across the small of Alec's back, drawing petite circles on the material of his shirt. "What about your parents?" he asked after a moment of silence, a tone of accusation barely hidden in his voice. There was also anger, trembling around the edges, aimed at the two human beings, but restrained for Alec's sake. "They should have been there to stop you boys from leaving the house that day."

"They were never… _there_." Alec slumped forward against Magnus' chest – a gesture that was supposed to bring him comfort, but seemed to be beneficial for Magnus as well. "When we were little, we always had a bunch of nannies, tutors, Isabelle had a governess. We were never alone, if that's what you are thinking. And I shouldn't have needed them to make such vital decisions anyway."

"Where were they when you most needed them?" Magnus' voice rumbled with vibrations beneath Alec's ear.

Alec's hand tightened around the front of Magnus' shirt. His touch would most likely leave wrinkles. "They grew apart, after the accident. It seems like Max was the last person keeping them together." He closed his eyes, focusing on Magnus' heartbeat. Slow, steady, calming. "My father left. Well, he was always leaving, always taking care of business, but never for so long. I last saw him about six months ago. He won't come home for Christmas, I'm certain of it." He sighed and, for whatever reason, Magnus' heart lost its rhythm for a second. Alec opened his eyes. "You already know what happened to my mother. But she's getting better. We all are." As he was saying that, he realized that it was _true. _He would never forget that day, but maybe, and it had never occurred to him before, he was allowed to remember it without an enormous baggage of guilt.

A few seconds passed, where Alec stayed motionless, but then his arms moved to wrap and tighten around Magnus' waist. "Thank you," he mumbled against Magnus' chest.

Magnus smelled of wind and petrichor, and Alec was content to bury his nose in that scent. He shuffled a little and nuzzled against Magnus neck. He thought he could feel Magnus shudder in response.

After a moment – minutes or hours later, Alec couldn't really tell, he was getting sleepy – he decided to just blurt out. "Where did you last see snow?" As he was speaking, his lips grazed Magnus' warmed skin.

Magnus tensed up for a second, Alec could feel every rigid muscle under his palms, but then he began to relax anew. "In Holland. Long time ago."

Grateful to receive even that small piece of information, Alec pressed a light kiss to Magnus' fluttering pulse point.

It wasn't really Magnus' turn to do it, but regardless, he murmured, "Thank you."

They sat there for a while, locked in each other's arms, the warmth of the fireplace caressing their bodies. The sounds that Magnus made were like a perfect lullaby: the sighs, his even breathing, the strong _thump-thump _of his heart.

Alec was ready to start snoring quietly against caramel-coloured skin, when Magnus spoke up, startling Alec from his almost-dream state, "Come on, sleepyhead. It's time for me to go."

"No," Alec mumbled grumpily. He was just so _comfortable_.

"Mmm, come on. I'll walk you to your bedroom. Get up."

They scrambled to their feet. Alec suspected that Magnus half-dragged him upstairs, or maybe even carried him – he was too far gone to register it. The only thing he would remember in the morning was the soft texture of a pillow as his cheek came into contact with the sheets; something tender, butterfly-like against his forehead; and three foreign words, whispered in the darkness. Then again, it all could have been a part of a dream.

* * *

**Please review to tell me what you thought! :) Next chapter - it's Christmas time! Wheeeeeeeee (Okay, I'll shut up now.) Thanks for reading! **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi, guys! *waves nervously* Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter was impossible to figure out. Thank you so much for your patience and your kind words and everything. You're the best :3**

**Huge amount of thanks goes to ChaseThisLightWithMe, my beta and my greatest supporter. I love you, darling! *squeezes***

**Okay. Take a deep breath and here we go.**

* * *

Delicious smells wafted through the Institute; a rich mixture of fiery hot ginger, sweet marzipan and oranges spiked with cloves. The most intense, however, was the scent of spruce. An enormous Christmas tree was standing in the main hallway; tall, proud, and decorated with millions of dazzling candles. The tree was serving as a butler tonight – welcoming potential guests with opened arms, an invitation to join the family, members of which were having Christmas dinner at the moment.

For once, the dining room didn't look so hauntingly _empty. _The room was bright, the air inside was humming with a feeling of mutual contentment, if not plain happiness. All three chandeliers had been lit up, and now they reflected in the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating some sort of a safe barrier from the cold outside. Behind the windows there was the endless black of night. The sky was clear, the stars visible and many and scattered across the black with a careful pattern. They were twinkling happily, as if celebrating Christmas alongside mankind.

The table was nearly bending under the loads of food. There were dozens of dishes, various kinds of food: exquisite soups, salads, baked potatoes, rich and round bunches of grapes, roasted sweet chestnuts, cakes and pastries among them. A proud roast pheasant stood in the middle of the table, its delicious smell filling the room. (Alec had blushed when he first saw it and his eyes immediately flicked to Magnus – he was met with conspiratorial smirk, he had chosen to snort at their _incompetence_.)

There were five people sitting at the table. The chair at the head was vacant, for Alec still refused to take it, but the glaring space was soothed by the presence of Maryse Lightwood. Her appearance was a surprise, but it was a pleasant one, instead of shocking. It had been awkward, at first, when she stepped into the dining room as they were ready to sit at the table, her sudden entrance causing their limbs to freeze mid-air. She had crossed the room; her black, lace gown fluttering a little in silence; her face severe, blank, and serious. They had feared that she would scold them for not waiting for her, that she would be offended, but she'd just said, "Please, do continue," and they complied with matching relieved breaths.

Alec was sitting opposite her, and he openly smiled when Maryse took her place at the table. He thought he even saw her smiling back – oh, such a rare image – and then Jace, who was sitting next to him, poked him in the ribs. It meant that he saw that, too. Alec could practically feel Jace vibrating with excitement, because _their mother was there, with them. _

Isabelle's place was next to Maryse, but her mood was grimmer than her brothers'. In that moment, she'd never looked more alike her mother. Pale face, head held high, black hair long and carefully arranged. The only contrast was between their dresses: while Maryse's was black, Isabelle wore a dress in the colour of red wine; deep, coquettish, youthful. But there was nothing flirtatious about her right now, her posture was closed-off. Alec guessed that she wasn't so keen on celebrating their mother's appearance. Her small hands on top of the table, curled into fists, told him that she was _angry _with Maryse. Her absence through the past two years was a blemish, one that her presence _now _wasn't able to wipe off. There was also a matter of Maryse's plans concerning Isabelle and Magnus, adding to Isabelle's anger, and Alec tensed when he was reminded of it.

When Maryse said, somehow triumphant, "It's a privilege to spend Christmas in the family circle," Alec couldn't help but notice how her eyes landed heavily on Magnus. There were so many things hidden underneath those words: Robert, being excluded from their family; Magnus already counting as a member, being a potential husband of Isabelle's; and at the same time, there was an obvious insult thrown at him across the table. Maryse was reminding him that he had no family – at least, no one else to spend Christmas with.

Alec looked to his left, struggling to gauge Magnus' reaction over Jace's mop of hair. He saw Magnus bow his head slightly in acknowledgment of her words. The muscles in his neck were tensed, and Alec longed to reach for him and touch him, and make them loosen under his fingertips.

Maryse fell silent soon after that, settling on observing them from her place with her attentive blue eyes. They started eating, and soon, the atmosphere was cheerful again.

As their bellies were becoming fuller, they began to relax. Laughter could be heard more often, mixed with the clatter of silver cutlery against porcelain.

"Mmm, this pheasant is delicious," Isabelle approved around a forkful of the roast. She shot Alec a mischievous glance, as if she _knew, _and he choked on his wine.

"Uh. Thank you," he stuttered out.

"Mhm, we tried very hard to shoot the finest one," Magnus chimed in, his voice very serious, _too_ serious.

If he was trying to help Alec's situation, he failed. Blushing, Alec leaned back to peek at Magnus from behind Jace's back, and he saw him barely managing to contain his laugher. He was _insufferable_; Alec wanted to shake his head. Suddenly, Jace's face appeared in his sight.

"What are you doing? Am I interrupting something?" Jace shot at him in a hushed, sharp tone. "What's so funny?"

"What? Nothing," Alec said quickly. He glanced across the table and was relieved to find out that Isabelle and Maryse weren't paying attention to them, instead engrossed in a conversation of their own.

"You are grinning like a madman. And staring." Jace smirked. "Is there something on Magnus' face? I want to see!" He whirled in his chair to look at Magnus.

"Jace, stop it," Alec hissed, trying to get his brother's attention. It was too late, though; Magnus was already glancing at Jace with his head tilted, wishing to know what the problem was. "I wasn't staring. _Jace_."

Jace turned back to him, having patted Magnus on the cheek. "Oh, yes, you were!" he lilted, the tone of his voice lowered to conspiratorial. "No wonder, though. I'm reluctant to admit it, but he _is_ pretty."

"Jace!" Alec whisper-shouted.

"You chose well, brother," Jace ended solemnly, and then got back to stuffing his mouth full of food.

Alec, dazed, turned back to his plate. He glanced at Magnus one last time, and their eyes met. He thought about being embarrassed, but it was so _familiar _now. Therefore, when Magnus smiled: delicately, privately, a warm expression offered to him over Jace's head; Alec immediately smiled back. His brother could say whatever he wanted, throwing things that didn't make sense to Alec, but when it really mattered, he was completely unaware of the moments developing right above his blonde head – for it was _theirs, _and Jace had no admittance to that.

* * *

When dinner was over, Maryse announced that she was going to retire to her chambers. Alec offered her his arm and he walked her out to the main hall. He wanted to express his gratitude in some way, knowing that she'd never pay attention to his words. He could hear Isabelle, Jace and Magnus following them, a dozen of steps behind.

"Thank you, Mother," he said quietly when she told him to leave her at the bottom of the stairs. They had stopped in the shadow of the Christmas tree. The fluttering lights of the candles were dancing on Maryse's tired face. Alec bent down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Nonsense," she murmured in reply, but he could feel her angling her head a little to give him better access. Then she climbed onto the first step and turned around with a "Goodnight, Alexander."

"Merry Christmas, mom," he said quietly to her back, certain that she couldn't hear him anymore.

By then, the rest had caught up to him. Isabelle put her arm around her brother – Alec started, because at first he thought, ridiculously, that it was Magnus touching him – and propped her chin on his shoulder. "Do you think it's time for presents?"

"Oh yes," Alec said, when she untangled herself from him. "They will be getting ready to sit to their own dinner, right?"

Isabelle nodded with enthusiasm, and smiled broadly. As if he'd been waiting for a sign, Jace dived under the Christmas tree. Magnus just stood there, a disorientated expression on his face.

"What is happening?" he asked in a hushed voice after he'd shuffled closer to Alec.

Automatically, Alec reached out and grabbed at Magnus' sleeve. His finger came in contact with Magnus' wrist – if he rubbed harder, he would be able to feel a bump of a vein under his fingertip – and he let himself _breathe_. His lungs filled up with a spruce-smelling air, and all the tension, that he hadn't even been aware of throughout the evening, left his body at once.

"We are going to the servants' wing," he began to explain, just as Jace started to emerge from under the tree with small packages in his hands. "Our servants will receive presents from us, as an additional thanks for their hard work, before starting their Christmas dinner. It's a tradition of ours. You'll see."

He tugged at Magnus' sleeve to get him moving, noticing that Jace and Isabelle were ready, their arms full of small gifts.

"I don't know…" Magnus eyed them sceptically. "It sounds like a private, family thing." He hesitated. "I wouldn't want to interfere-"

"Magnus," Alec cut him off. He put his palm against Magnus' cheek to get his attention. His eyes were filled with fondness when they met with the golden-green ones. Sometimes, Magnus could be really _dumb_. "Please, I want you to be there."

Magnus surrendered quickly upon hearing that. Side to side, they followed after Jace and Isabelle.

Indeed, it was a tradition in the Lightwoods' household, one that Alec, as an heir, was glad to maintain. He always thought it was a nice gesture, something that didn't cost them much, but was a source of so much happiness.

They reached their destination and tumbled inside. The servants' dining room was a small room, connected directly to the kitchens. There was a simple, wooden table in the middle of it, occupied to the last place. As the Lightwoods and Magnus entered, everybody in the room stood up hastily, their chairs scraping across the floor with ugly, enthusiastic sounds. 'My lord! My lady!' could be heard among them, shouts coloured with surprise – for every person knew they were coming, but it was as if they still couldn't believe their kindness.

They crowded in the small space. Sweet perfumes and cologne mixed with clouds of steam coming from the kitchen. Their elegant clothes made them look out of place, but the matching smiles on all the faces were the thing that made them feel _at home._

"Good evening, everyone," Isabelle spoke up. A chorus of jovial _good evenings _answered her. "My brothers and I would like to ensure that your day is as amazing as ours has been so far. And you deserve credit for that." There was a murmur of half-hearted protest, but it quickly died out. "These little things," with her chin, she gestured at the gifts spilling out of her arms, "couldn't possibly be enough to express how much you mean to us, but we want you to know that your work is greatly appreciated and you are all angels for putting up with our whims on a daily basis."

She giggled at the sight of those conflicted looks on their faces: they were shocked by how easy it was for her to criticize her own kind, ready to deny her words out of kindness, but also pleasantly flattered. Isabelle added, "Merry Christmas, everyone."

If there had been more words, they would have drowned in a chorus of best wishes. Alec looked at his sister with pride bursting in his chest. She was going to make a perfect lady of a house one day. He knew Isabelle Lightwood was not going to simply be 'a wife' to some lord, her marriage would be a partnership, an _alliance_.

With Jace, Isabelle started handing out the presents.

Alec stayed aside with Magnus, kindly allowing his friend to get used to the overwhelming feeling of mutual joy filling the room. He observed Magnus' face for a moment: the way he was grinning, the way his eyes glistened when Ragnor received his gift – for he was here, too, dragged along with Magnus, because he couldn't leave him alone in Idris House, not on Christmas, but he didn't expect that his magician would let himself feel so at ease here.

Alec noticed that Ragnor's face was less green and more a healthy red, as he dragged his eyes across every face in the room. Simon was standing there with his hands tightly wrapped around his package, like it was the most precious thing in the world – and it probably was, for him, since Isabelle's hands had been touching it before. His gaze was fixed on the back of Isabelle's head.

Maia and Jordan were standing close to each other, and when Jace clapped the stableman's shoulder and moved from them, Jordan let himself squeeze Maia's hand. Alec had been oblivious to the exact nature of their relations, until Isabelle mentioned it in one of their conversations – that she thought Maia and Jordan were in love, and soon they were going to ask Alec for his permission to get engaged and then, to get married. It was clear, now, in the way they gazed at each other lovingly; and Alec didn't know how he did not notice it before.

Miss P, the cook, was bustling between the room and the kitchen, worried about her food, but also worried about letting the Lightwood children out of her sight. There were many more faces like those, flushed and happy, and many pairs of eyes sending Alec grateful looks. He just stood there and smiled delicately and shook his head, because really, it was a _pleasure. _

He wasn't sure how his arm ended up wrapped around Magnus' waist. He didn't know it was there at all, until Magnus shifted closer to him, making Alec's fingers curl around his hip. He wondered for a moment how they must have looked to the people around them – but then he decided on _happy. _Yes, he was happy to be holding Magnus like that. It felt safe and warm and _fitting_. They suited the room, with its smiles and love and _togetherness._

* * *

After the presents had been given, the Lightwoods and Magnus migrated to the drawing room.

Isabelle immediately threw herself onto the chaise longue. She let out a long, content sigh. Jace handed her a glass of wine, and poured himself a tumbler of cognac – he didn't mind serving himself, the staff was allowed to celebrate in peace. Then he sat heavily in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

Magnus, it seemed instinctively, moved towards the clavichord. He perched on the bench, not really intending to play, but rather choosing the place as the most comfortable for him at the moment.

Alec followed him, as if there was some invisible force pulling them close to each other, or maybe he just wasn't willing to lose Magnus' warmth. He threw his leg over the bench and sat astride, the position allowing him to observe Magnus' face comfortably. It was easier to gaze at his hands though, running absentmindedly over the keys, touching only from time to time, the lightest of sounds.

He got lost into watching the small movements, Magnus' tendons flexing just underneath caramel-coloured skin, the air hazy and stuffed. The urge to pick up one of those hands and put it against candlelight and observe the visual effect sneaked up on him – he'd always loved Rembrandt's paintings, his way of presenting lights and shadows, the symbolism behind it. He was intrigued. Would Magnus hand turn pink or maybe fluorescent orange, betraying it was made of flesh? Or was it weaved out of silk and Alec's day-dreams?

His mind felt a little fuzzy, probably from all the wine he'd had. A slow, lazy smile spread across his lips when Magnus' finger slipped from the key and he moved his hand to pull down his sleeve, one that had been exposing his wrist beautifully – and Magnus just snatched that picture from him. Alec hoped he would get the opportunity to map all the muscles and details of those lovely hands, some other time, when they were alone.

As if only remembering now, Alec looked around the room to find his siblings completely relaxed.

"It was nice, wasn't it?" he asked abruptly.

Isabelle lifted her half-closed eyelids. An almost-empty glass dangled from her fingers, the burgundy liquid swaying upon the slightest move. "Absolutely. It's wonderful to have your loved ones close on Christmas." She attempted to smile but then the smile turned into a short wince. "And I'm sorry, Magnus, that your experience was different than ours. We did what we could and I can only apologize for my Mother."

Magnus didn't hesitate. "No, Isabelle. What are you talking about?" He shook his head. "It was lovely. I'm eternally grateful for your invitation."

She grinned, eased by the sincere tone in his voice. "Oh, believe me. We didn't do it out of courtesy. We wanted you to be here. It was the most selfish thing."

"She is right," Alec chimed in eagerly.

Jace gave a noncommittal hum that everybody chose to ignore.

Magnus turned his head to Alec. His eyes were sparkling. "Oh, alright. Selfishness is not always bad, then."

Alec's eyes widened a little at the remembrance of their conversation, and Magnus smiled. "Told you," he added quietly, only for Alec to hear.

Indeed, Magnus had told him. Alec thought he finally started to understand what he'd meant.

* * *

After about an hour later, Magnus decided it was time for him to go home. Of course, he was invited for dinner the next day as well.

Without waiting for Ragnor, knowing that the man would come back at the appropriate time, Magnus bid his good nights and Alec followed him to the corridor.

They walked to the door slowly, reluctant to say goodbye. Alec, cowardly, had his head lowered, his bangs covering his face, as if he needed a physical barrier to stop himself from openly _staring_ at Magnus. He was painfully aware of a trembling, thin space between them – not enough and too much at the same time, _always too much_.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," Magnus said as they stopped at the door. Alec reached for Magnus' coat and held it out for him to help him get his arms into the sleeves. The back of his hand accidentally brushed against Magnus' nape when Magnus flung on the coat with ease.

He stepped back; Magnus turned around to face him. Alec looked at him from between his eyelashes. "No, thank _you,_" he said with a small smile.

Magnus shuffled on his feet, as if uncertain of what to say or do – which was an odd look on him. He seemed to decide on something at last, because he spoke up, "Witnessing the scene at the servants' dining room was very touching. It's a beautiful tradition." Alec hummed in agreement. "Speaking of which," Magnus added hastily, "I have something for you. Back at Idris House, I forgot to take it with me. It's just a small Christmas gift."

Alec blinked. "You shouldn't have. I don't want anything from you."

"I wish you would."

Alec blinked again, twice. The space was plunged in semi-darkness, shadows bound together with candlelight in a complicated, twisted dance. "I do, in fact," he blurted out. "I just… don't want anything _material_, alright?"

Magnus reached out to brush a stray hair away from Alec's face. As if he was too tempted, or couldn't stand Alec hiding from him – or perhaps it was _permission._ "What do you want, then?" he asked, his voice somewhat quieter. His hand lingered on Alec's cheek.

Alec lifted his arm and threaded their fingers together. He turned his head a little so his lips grazed Magnus' palm.

Magnus stared, mesmerized. Without waiting for an answer to his question, he whispered, "_Aku cinta kamu__."_

At the same moment, Alec thought of his reply. _'You.' _He dismissed the words, instead plunging forward and pressing his lips to Magnus'.

For the first two seconds, they stayed motionless, with their eyes wide-open, surprised. Until Magnus sighed into Alec's mouth, his eyes fluttered close and he became pliant in Alec's arms.

It was like letting out a breath that had been held for too long.

Their lips started moving against each other without finesse – startled, starved, relieved. Alec's hand travelled up to entwine with Magnus' hair, bringing him closer.

It was nothing like Alec had expected – it was sweater. _Real_. Magnus' lips were so soft beneath his. One word, repeated like a mantra, was tumbling in his head: _Finally, finally, finally._ He gasped when Magnus changed the angle; moaned, startling himself, when Magnus sucked lightly at his bottom lip.

Their eyelashes tangled together; Magnus' hands on his hips, his own cradling Magnus' head, stroking his cheek, resting on his neck, _keeping him in place. _

He thought for a second, dazed and giddy, that he wouldn't be able to breathe in a moment, that he was going to be forced to draw back – but he could come back anytime, feel those lips on his again.

It crashed on him at once.

He was standing in the middle of the hall of his family house, and he was kissing a man – _Magnus, _he was kissing Magnus, his best friend.

He jerked back, _away; _stumbled, panting, _shoved_ at Magnus. It was a small gesture, barely existing, but it was _ungentle, _its meaning obvious – it caused Magnus to finally open his eyes.

Whatever he saw in Alec's face, made his own _shatter. _Alec was unable to look him in the eye – there was only shame, and horror.

"I think you should go," he stuttered between his furious pants. His voice was coarse, and he attempted to clear his throat.

There was no answer – nothing – and it caused him to finally look up.

Magnus was leaving. He turned on his heel and decided to just _leave_. There was a terrible feeling of painful _wrongness_, unfurling in Alec's chest. Wrong was the picture of Magnus walking away from him.

Something flashed in his mind, something urgent, begging of him to remember. Then it clicked. "Magnus, wait!" he cried after him. There was a pause, when Magnus was almost out of the door – the freezing air already creeping inside, circling around Alec's feet – but his hand lingered on the door handle. "You said it before. Those three words. I thought I dreamt it." Magnus tensed. Alec knew he sounded desperate, irrational. "What does it mean?!"

Magnus' shoulders sagged. He jammed his top hat on, the movement speaking of resignation. Then he stepped outside, into the cold, without looking back.

* * *

**Now, I would really like to know what you thought of this one. *bites nails***


End file.
